


When We Two Parted

by RogueLioness



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, Tags May Change, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 96,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say you find love in the most unexpected places.<br/>But even Solas couldn't have expected to find his bond mate in the middle of utter chaos.<br/>The only problem? She's human.</p>
<p>Kiana Trevelyan is a black sheep filled with secrets.<br/>She's perfectly fine living life by herself.<br/>So why does she find herself thinking about a certain elf?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _The title is drawn from one of Lord Byron's poem. It seemed rather fitting. So, this story mostly follows the DA:I plot line for the most part, but I wanted to flesh out my Inquisitor and give her a bit of a past. This is mostly my attempt at making myself feel better because dammit, Solas._   
>  _There will most likely be inaccuracies in the story. I'm the sort of person who wants ~everything~ and that's most likely going to be reflected in here. This will mostly have Kiana's and Solas' POV, but there will be other POV's now and again._   
>  _I'll probably be bringing in other characters from the DA world, and making up some of my own._   
>  _Any elvhen in this story will either be what I can poorly piece together (so bear with me!) or will come from Project Elvhen by FenxShiral (it's a magnificent work, really, really amazing!)_
> 
> _This is just a story that's been in my head for far too long, so bear with me :)_

She was sharpening her daggers when he approached, standing hesitantly at the doorway of her hut. He had a myriad of questions - starting with _how did you survive the Fade_ \- but he bit his tongue. Instead, he settled against the wall, content with watching his mate working.

“Well, go on then,” she spoke irritably.

“I beg your pardon?”

She let out a small grunt of annoyance, put the dagger away and faced him. “I can practically feel the questions rolling off you, Solas. Go ahead, ask.”

“You’re a dagger-wielding rogue.” She gave him a deadpan look, and gestured towards her daggers, making him feel foolish. “Who can use magic?” Her gaze turned sly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Solas. I used no magic when facing the demons.”

He merely raised an eyebrow.

She huffed. “Fine. But if you tell anyone else, I will vehemently deny it.”

“So you’re a mage?”

“ _Ugh_ , how much more confirmation do you want? Yes, I’m a mage.” She hissed.

He looked at her in admiration. “How did you survive alone after the Circles fell?”

She blinked at him in confusion for a second before comprehension dawned. “Oh, you mean - I was never in a Circle, so I had no need to escape.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been free, if you can call it that?”

“But surely someone must have noticed!” _Was her will, her focus,so strong?_

She gave another one of her careless shrugs. Picking up her second dagger, she resumed her care of the weapon. “Someone did, yes.”

He waited. The minutes ticked by, and he was frustrated that she seemed perfectly content with leaving him hanging. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Who noticed? Why didn’t they say anything?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Why are you so eager to know? For what it’s worth, to the others, to the world, I’m a rogue. You should leave it at that.”

He shut the door, and walked over to the bed she sat on, and settled himself besides her. Leaning back against the wall, he patiently awaited her reply, humming softly to himself to pass the time.

“Andraste’s dimpled buttcheek, if I tell you, will you let it go?”

“For the moment, yes.”

She looked at him warily. “This stays between us, alright?” 

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, thrilled at sharing a secret with her. “You have my word. However, I feel it prudent to warn you that you cannot hide this from the others forever. At some point of time, they will find out - and I think it wise they learn of it from you.”

She sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “I know. And I will… I just… I’m not sure how to bring it up, you know? It’s not like I can suddenly blurt out _oh by the way I’m a mage_.” She let out another sigh, and he placed his hand on her shoulder, silently offering support.

“In any case, back to your question…” she pretended to glare at him, a smile on her lips, “I was ten when my magic surfaced. But according to Renthis, I’d been showing signs of it from the time I was eight.”

“Who is Renthis?”

“He was our stable master. He was a tall, broad man, quiet but caring, and he was especially attached to me. As I was to him. He was more a parent to me than both my parents combined…” She broke off, lost in memory for a moment, before continuing her story. “Anyway, I was ten, and I had been mucking around in the stables - it was my favorite place, spending time with the horses, feeding them, brushing them down…. I enjoyed it more than I enjoyed learning social graces and interacting with the children of the other noble families.” She gave an involuntary shudder of distaste.

“There was a new horse in the stables, a stallion by the name of Shadow, who hadn’t been broken yet. For some unknown reason he’d been put in the stables, instead of one of the pens in the fields. I didn’t know about his temperament, and when I went to feed him, he lashed out at me and tried to bite me. I was scared, and in my fear I accidentally set alight the bundle of hay I’d been holding - and when I saw that the hay I was holding was on fire, I panicked and threw it away, only for it to land on some bales of hay.”

He winced, and she saw it. “I know, right? Renthis heard my screams - and I was incredibly lucky he had been the first to hear me - and when he saw the fire, he immediately went over to a lantern and threw it on the ground next to the bales. Just in time, too, because soon after more people rushed in. I was terrified and about to confess what I’d done, but he silenced me and waved me aside. Told the others that I’d tried to pet the new stallion, who had lashed out at me, and I dropped the lantern out of fear. They seemed mollified by the explanation, put out the fire - no serious damage was done - and they left, My parents came by to see what the fuss was about, scolded me for being in the stables in the first place, and left. The next day, when I went to the stables to apologize to Renthis, he took me aside and gave me a dagger. It was huge, and certainly not something you give a child - but he looked at me calmly, and told me that I needed to master it.

And then he went on to tell me about mages, and Circles, and what happened when a mage went into a Circle, and told me if I wanted to stay out of them, I needed to work harder than every servant my family had.”

His heart ached for her. “How did he know so much about mages and the Circles?”

“His daughter was a mage. She was taken away from him when she was twelve, and put into the Ostwick Circle. He rarely got to see her when she was growing up and… “ she trailed off, then cleared her throat. “She didn’t pass her Harrowing. She was twenty two. The templars came and told him she’d turned into an abomination, and they’d had to put her down.”

She gripped the dagger tightly. “He told me that she was always scared in the Circle. Fearful of the templars, yes, but also of her abilities. Every letter she wrote to him spoke about how she was scared. They’d taught her to fear herself, you see, and because of that she was never able to master her power. And because of that, she failed. He didn’t want that for me, wanted me to be free.”

“I’m surprised he wasn’t scared of his daughter.”

“No, he loved her dearly. So much so that he felt her magical abilities were a gift. He said that he’d told her that she had magic because of Andraste, because she said that magic was meant to serve man. She believed it for a while, till she was taken to the Circle.”

He raged against the ignorant _shems_ , but controlled himself. “Did he teach you how to control your magic?”

She shook her head. “I taught myself.”

“You taught yourself? But how? And without anyone knowing!”

She frowned. “I practiced with the dagger first, trained myself how to use it. That helped me build up my focus and concentration. I had plenty of cuts from the damn thing, which helped me learn some healing magic, because I didn’t want anyone to see any scars and question me. And Renthis was willing to help out however he could - which he did, by smuggling me as many books on the subject as he could find. I’d give him my allowance, but I’m sure he spent more of his own coin, trying to procure the books for me.” She gave a small, fond smile at the thought. “Don’t get me wrong, I paid him back when I was older and found out how much books actually cost.”

“You managed to do all that as a child?” He was incredulous, in awe of her.

She looked at him sharply. “I was ten when I lost my innocence about how the world worked. I was eleven when I heard that my only friend had been taken to the Circle. I did not want to be locked up, locked away, so I worked hard to avoid it. For weeks after the incident I kept to my room, fearful that I would repeat it. Everyone thought the horse had traumatized me, and the horse was put down. When I heard the news, I felt so guilty. Went to bed that night, woke up having frozen my pillow. I was scared someone would see it, so I snuck out of my bed and exchanged it with a pillow from one of the guest bedrooms. 

For a while I managed to get by through dumb luck, but soon it struck me that my emotions triggered my erratic magic. So I knew I needed to focus on remaining calm, and the dagger helped that. Anytime I was angry, or sad, or felt guilty, I’d tell myself to wait till dagger time to let it out. I’d stay up all night practicing with the dagger till it became familiar to me, and so did my magic. For sometime all was well and honing my focus on the the dagger allowed me to practice and control my magic. But when I started reading the books, and trying out spells, it threatened to veer out of control again.” She smiled cheekily. “So I added a second dagger.”

She looked at him.”And that’s the end of my story.”

“Don’t you need a staff to do your magic?”

She laughed, the sound rich and throaty, and he felt a tug of desire in his gut. “Come now, Solas, we both know mages don’t need staffs to perform magic. More for focus, yes? I had my daggers for that.” She shrugged - a trait he found rather endearing - and continued. “It was all for the best, really, though the learning process was very difficult. I don’t have to rely on an external object for a source of focus, I have to use what’s inside me.”

He looked at her, filled with amazement and… pride? This was his mate, a woman of immense control, of an indomitable will and focus; someone who molded her life to what she’d wanted it to be simply because she refused to accept the alternative. He found his voice. “You are an incredible woman, Kiana.”

She rolled her eyes. He’d noticed she was uncomfortable with compliments, shrugging them off with a joke or dismissing them entirely. “Mostly luck. I wouldn’t have managed it if I wasn’t born into a noble family.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but her eyes held a troubled look; it was clear this was something that she pondered on often.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make it any less admirable. There are few who would have done what you chose to do.”

She blushed slightly, and he found it adorable. “Thank you.” She looked at him. “Now remember, nothing goes outside this room!”

He opened his mouth to repeat his promise, when the door opened and Cassandra walked in. The Seeker looked suspiciously at the two of them. “Solas, what are you doing here?”

She spoke up smoothly before he could say anything. “Solas came by to check on me and the Anchor. I was in the middle of cleaning - “ she held up her daggers “ - and he was waiting for me to finish up. But it looks like with the Breach stable, the Anchor is, too.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that right?”

“That is correct.” He levelled his gaze on the Seeker. “I have not yet figured out how the Anchor works, only that it does. As for the Breach, the Anchor isn’t powerful enough to close it. We’ll need to match the power that was used to create it, if we are to seal it.”

Cassandra nodded, mollified. “When you are done, come to the Chantry. We are having our supper there.”

“I’m done. I’ll walk with you, Seeker.”

He bowed his head gracefully. “I will clean up and join you shortly.” He worried briefly that the Seeker would catch on to her mage abilities, then remembered that any aura she threw off would be attributed to the Anchor. He let out a sigh of relief, and went to his room to change into a clean tunic. 

He thought back to their encounter with the Pride demon. His heart had been constantly in his throat, worried about her, worried for her. She’d seemed so small against the giant demon, but not once had he seen any fear on her face, only determination. She shifted around the battlefield like she owned it, her eyes aware of where everyone was, using the knowledge to her advantage. Each time the demon threw its guard up, she moved to the breach and attacked it with the Anchor, weakening it once more.She moved like a red lion, in a near blur, seemingly attacking from different directions at once, with the ferocity and the deadly grace of the feline. 

He gave a small chuckle. She was the _vheranaan’gra_ to his _fen’harel_ , and he was inexplicably pleased by the notion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas remembers his first impressions of Kiana.

As Solas walked towards the Chantry, his thoughts wandered to the first time he laid eyes on _her_. It was soon after the explosion at the Conclave, and the appearance of the Breach, and he’d been filled with horrified guilt. He had tried closing the Breach, but nothing had worked, and he’d been forced to retreat, only to find a rift in his path. Several soldiers were already battling the demons that poured out of the hole, and he’d joined in the fray, throwing a barrier around those who needed it the most, sending bolts of fire and lighting towards the malevolent shades and terror demons. He’d tried sealing the rift, but that too had failed, and soon they’d all retreated, overwhelmed with the number of the creatures coming from the rift.

They had pulled back to the forward camp, which was where he first learnt of a survivor. He unashamedly listened into the conversation between the Seeker and a red-haired woman - who he’d later learnt was Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine - and found out that the survivor carried a mark of magic. His ears had perked up at that, and hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe there was a way to close the rifts, after all. If the woman carried his power, if he could take it from her, he could seal the Breach… 

He’d gone up to them and smoothly introduced himself, and offered his services. They were both suspicious, but they’d warily accepted and Cassandra - the Right Hand of the Divine - had taken him to see the woman, who was being held prisoner.

He’d walked into the dungeons when the flare of magic hit him. He saw a man kneeling beside a woman, who was unconscious by the looks of it. The man picked up a potion and pressed it against her lips, trying to get the contents down her throat. They felt the Breach outside shudder, and simultaneously, the woman gave a sickening squeal of pain, twisting in agony, the mark on her hand flashing and growing in size. The man - Adan, the apothecary - swore, and turned to face them. “I can’t do anything for her. The healing potions are ineffective, and I dare not give her lyrium with that mark in her hand. I’ve tried a regeneration potion but that doesn’t seem to help either.” He threw his hands up helplessly. “She’s as good as dead. Who can walk the Fade and survive?”

The Seeker had introduced him. “This is Solas. He is an apostate knowledgeable in the rarer magics. He is here to help the prisoner.” The man had sneered at him. “Good luck. She’s running a high fever, and every muscle in her is tense. She’s torn a few muscles because of it, and then of course there’s the glowing mark on her hand that seems intent on killing her.”

He nodded politely, and approached her. He finally saw her clearly, and his heart gave a hitch of pity. She was young, and looked frail with strain. She was tall - taller than most of the females of her kind - and slender. Her skin was golden honey, and the hair that was disheveled was the deepest black he’d ever seen. He knew her eyes would be large and catlike by the shape of them, and her nose was long and delicate. She had full, generous lips, the kind that made men wonder as to the taste of them. Her face was a study in symmetry, with high cheekbones and a razor-sharp jaw. He observed her beauty clinically, saddened that it would soon be lost to the world. If what the apothecary said was true - if this human female had indeed walked the Fade physically - then she had very little chance of surviving.

Feeling like he was serving a lost cause, he nevertheless wanted to learn about the Anchor. He took the hand bearing the Anchor in his, pleased when it gave a soft hum of recognition. She gave another moan of pain, this nameless patient of his, and sympathetically he sent a flow of healing magic into her.

He had not been prepared for what happened next.

A flash of red light burst from her chest. Before he could wonder at it, he felt a tug in his core, and watched in horror as an answering pulse of blue was pulled out of him. He watched the two ribbons of light - their magic - dance and coil around each other, finally melding into a rich, royal purple. With a burst, the purple light split into two, one part diving into her, the other rushing into him, the force of it knocking him onto his back.

He’d sat up, slowly, disbelievingly. _Fenedhis, it cannot be_. He raised a trembling hand and pulled up the sleeve on his right arm. There it was, just as he’d known. In ornate ancient Elvhen script was her name, hidden away on the inner part of his upper arm. _Kiana_. Trembling even more, he sought out her left arm, and found his name there, in the same script. He dropped her hand as though it were a hot piece of coal, and sank his head into his hands.

This human was his mate. He’d let out a bitter laugh. The cruelty of the timing had not escaped him. He had faced centuries alone, constantly searching for the one who would match his soul, and for centuries he had not found anyone. He’d faced jabs and mockery about his lone wolf reputation, watched in envy at how happy Sylaise and June had been. It had hurt him to see how Andruil took her many matched partners for granted. All he’d asked for was one person to share his life with, and now was when he was granted his wish?

He should have felt some relief that she was a human, one who had not long to survive. Soon she would be gone, and he would be free, once more the lone wolf. Instead he was filled with despair, dismayed that she would be lost to him even before he had a chance to find her, know her. That she had been injured, permanently marked, by _his errors_. It burned him to know that she suffered at his hand.

He looked down at her, her face peaceful in the momentary respite. He had had a choice; he could walk away from her, when their bond was newborn, when breaking it would hurt the least. Or he could stay and help her, feel their bond grow stronger, and walk out an empty husk of a person when she inevitably died.

He let out a sigh. In truth, there was no choice; his decision had been made the instant he knew she was his mate. He’d settled down next to her, ignoring the guards who walked in, and begun his examination of the mark in earnest. No matter how much he’d tried to coax his magic out of it into himself, it had refused to budge. It was almost as if it had felt a need to be in her. He’d given up on that approach, and had instead focused on controlling its growth.

For days he had stayed by her side, bathing her fevered body in cold water, sending pulses of healing magic to help with the pain. He’d felt their bond becoming deeper; felt too, the tingles of her aura that indicated she was a mage. He’d found it amusing that the Seeker had taken away the daggers that had been found on her, yet had failed to see her true abilities. 

Once, in the midst of her pain-filled ravings she had screamed out for Fen’harel to save her, and his heart had stopped. He had been inordinately happy that there had been no one else to hear it. His name on her lips was meant for his ears alone.

Eventually, he had been forced to admit defeat. He’d searched the Fade for her spirit, had failed to find it; the spirits who could have helped him had been driven away by the noise and chaos of the Breach. She was, after all, only a mortal. No mortal could survive being sent physically through the Fade. They would lose her mark, and any benefit it may have provided to closing sealing the rifts. 

He’d tried to force himself to think of her detachedly. It was a pity, to lose such an asset. That was all she was, an unfortunate human who was caught in the crossfire. Nothing but collateral damage. But even as the thoughts rolled through his mind he knew them all to be lies. She was more than just a human, more than just a potential asset. He mourned the loss of her, felt it pierce his heart, his soul. He’d pleaded with someone, _anyone_ , for a miracle. If she never recovered, he would have one more thing to never forgive himself for. It seemed almost like poetic justice, the life of his mate for the myriad lives he’d wrecked. Even so, he desperately wished it otherwise, offering up everything in him in some futile bargain for her; to whom he directed it towards he did not know.

Filled with misery, he’d picked up his staff and ventured outside. He had thought to try one last time to seal the Breach; if it failed, he would have to flee, to give him time to come up with a better strategy. 

Hours later, in the middle of a futile fight against the rift, his world had changed. He had been fighting alongside the dwarf and soldiers for seemingly eternity, the rift constantly spewing out demons. They had been tired, their energy flagging, and he knew without something miraculous they would either all fall, or be forced to retreat once more.

But a miracle they’d received.

He’d admittedly been too distracted to pay full attention to the combat, and it had resulted in him being trapped against the rock, a terror demon approaching him. He’d raised a barrier in time to deflect its first strike, but he knew he lacked the mana to raise a second one, let alone attack. Just as his barrier wore down, he was covered with another, the feel of it warm, comforting, and… familiar? He’d looked up to see a stranger, a raven haired woman wielding two wickedly sharp daggers, mercilessly attacking the terror, which had fallen quickly. Soon, the area was free of demons, but everyone had been on edge, waiting for it to spew forth more.

The idea had come to him then, and he’d caught her arm, pulling her close to the rift. “Quickly! Before more come through!” He raised the Anchor up to the rift… if his suspicions were right… 

And they had been. The Anchor caught the edges of the rift and pulled them together, seamlessly closing it. A victorious, hope-filled cry rang out through the soldiers, but he’d barely heard them. Instead, he looked at her, somehow miraculously awake and alive. She was looking at her hand in puzzlement, then had raised her eyes up to his. With a jolt, he’d felt the bond grow stronger. Her eyes were the color of freshly cut grass, ringed with amber. They were beautiful, glowing and hypnotic, and he felt like he could lose himself in them for hours… He’d struggled to focus on what she was saying.

“Did I do that?”

“Yes. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “It can’t have been me. It must have been the mark. Do you know how it works?” 

She’d asked him one question after another, and he’d rejoiced in her curious spirit, answering the best he could. The Seeker had pressed them onwards to the forward camp, where they’d run into Chancellor Roderick, a man he would have been only too happy to throw to a Shade. The man had called for her head, had ordered her bound in chains. He’d been happy when the Seeker had rebuked him and ignored his words.

Faced with her first dilemma, he’d watched helplessly as she struggled over trying to decide between a more direct path that would face more fighting but save more soldiers, or an indirect path that would result in more casualties, but potentially aid a lost troop of scouts. He’d seen the regret in her eyes as she chose the mountain path, knowing that this decision would be the first of many burdens she would be forced to bear through no fault of her own. More guilt had flooded through him, and he’d vowed internally to be by her side as best as he could.

They had found the scouts, and sealed a rift, before continuing on to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The horrific sights there had turned her stomach, and she’d gone to a corner and divested her stomach of its contents. He’d approached her carefully, and asked if he could offer her any help. “I’m fine. Just… all these people. So much death, and destruction… why would anyone want to do this?” He had had no answer for her, instead gripping her shoulder in support.

They moved on, determined to close the Breach properly, and had been successful; however she had succumbed to the strain soon after and had passed out. He carried her back to her rooms carefully, gently, laying her down on the bed as though she were a fragile piece of crystal. He pushed everyone out of the room, intent on healing her himself. Each bruise, each wound that he made disappear from her skin healed him on the inside; the knowledge that he cared for his mate a soothing balm.

 _Would she recognize him? Would she be able to feel the bond? Would she be drawn to him? Would she be disappointed that he was an elf?_ And more importantly - _Did he want her to?_

So many questions, so few answers. He’d sighed, and left the room, wanting her to rest without disturbance, yet eager for her to awaken so he could talk to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiana needs some time alone. Solas finds out more about the human rogue.

They sat around the table that served as a makeshift meeting point. She blew on the hot, thick stew before spooning it into her mouth. “So tell me again why we need to talk to Mother Giselle?” 

Josephine gracefully replied. “The Chantry has denounced us, and branded us heretics - you in particular, and the rest of us for harboring you. Mother Giselle is well known in the Chantry. She can give us the names of those in the Chantry we can approach, who will see reason. Hopefully this will allow us to show them that our purpose is not to replace them, but merely to close the Breach.”

She glared down at her bowl and muttered, “And they wonder why people fear the Chantry.” That earned her a disapproving look from the Seeker. She swallowed another spoonful of the stew - it was quite delicious, she’d have to hunt down the cook and thank them later - she continued her queries. “Why can’t she come here?”

Leliana shook her head. “There are too many obstacles in the way. There are rogue templars and apostates fighting in the region. My scouts have also spotted bandits in the region. She also refuses to come here, says there are too many refugees at the Crossroads who need her help.”

She shrugged. “So ask her for the names. I’m sure you can send and receive messages.”

“Why are you being so obstinate?” Cassandra interjected. “What is the harm in meeting a revered Mother? You are the Herald of Andraste, and she would want you to do so.”

She levelled a cool glance at the Seeker, and everyone in the room felt the temperature drop down several degrees. “Seeker Pentaghast, my purpose in this Inquisition is to close the Breach, and restore order. What it does not include are claims to being a religious figure of some sort, or rejuvenating a religion.” She directed her gaze to include everyone around the table. “You might think that my being a Trevelyan means that I automatically have an adoration for the Chantry. Allow me to tell you I do not. What I believe in, what I think of Andraste and the Maker and the Chantry are mine, and will be kept out of this. My beliefs are personal. 

Let me also tell you that if you intend to approach my family for help, it will be futile. While I haven’t outrightly been disowned, it is clear to both my family and me that they do not consider me one of their own.”

She looked back at Cassandra, her tone softening. “I have no objections to meeting Mother Giselle, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a better use of my time.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds arrogant, sorry. What I meant to say was, if going to see her is truly a matter of importance for the Inquisition, more important than staying and helping the sick and injured here, I will gladly do so.”

The Seeker relaxed her rigid stance, and asked curiously. “You do not speak with your family?”

She knew Cassandra sought to understand her. “I don’t. They disapproved of me. Disowning me would bring them disgrace, so they chose to send me away instead. My family is distantly related to the Vael family, and so I spent some time at the palace.”

Josephine spoke, her eyes wide. “You are familiar with the Prince of Starkhaven?” 

She chuckled. “Yes, but not in the way my parents hoped. They hoped that Sebastian would rub off on me, that he would make an _honest woman_ out of me.” She pretended to shiver. “Instead, we became very good friends. I thought he’d be rather sheltered, but it was clear to me that his time in Kirkwall had hardened him. It took a while to get him to truly calm down, to let go of his fury over what had happened there.” She sidled a glance at Varric. “He’s been trying to apologize to some of his acquaintances from the city.”

The dwarf grunted. “He was always a pretentious twit.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know he can come across a little high handed, but you know as well as I do he has a good heart.” Varric narrowed his eyes, staring her down. He seemed satisfied by what he saw, though, and let the matter drop. “So, your folks wanted to unite House Trevelyan and House Vael, eh? That would have been some alliance.”

She laughed. “It was the final nail in the coffin for my relationship with my parents. They were furious that I wasn’t going to wed Seb, after all their careful planning.” Her mouth turned into a mocking twist. “As far as they were concerned, I had lost my last chance at redeeming myself. I had showed that I was not going to make myself useful in any way.” She grinned. “Seb and I have a standing agreement, though - if we’re both still single when I’m thirty five, I’ll marry him.”

Solas felt a stab of jealousy strike him. He spoke up smoothly. “And how old are you, Lady Kiana?”

She giggled. “You don’t ask a lady her age, Solas.” Still chuckling, she continued. “But since I’m not quite a lady, I can tell you that I’m twenty five.”

_Twenty five. She was so young…_

She pushed her empty bowl away from her. “So, getting back to the discussion at hand, Mother Giselle. When do we leave?”

“We’re waiting for some supplies for our men at the crossroads. I believe they should be arriving in a day or two.” Josephine replied in her gracious way.

She turned towards Cassandra. “So, in three days time then?” The Seeker nodded. 

Taking charge came to her naturally, and she unconsciously sank into the role. “You in, Varric?” 

“Bianca wouldn’t be left out of the action for anything! We’ll be there.”

She looked at him now, her green eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “What about you, Solas? I could use your help.”

He inclined his head gracefully. “But of course.”

“That’s settled then. Josephine, you wouldn’t happen to know where the cook is, would you? I must thank her for such a wonderful meal.”

“I’m sure you don’t need to trouble yourself, Lady Kiana. I’d be more than happy to pass on your compliments.”

She sighed. “Please, stop calling me Lady Kiana, it makes me feel quite uncomfortable. I’d really much rather you call me Kiana. And I’d like to thank her myself. Not that I don’t trust you, but it’s just something I do.”

“Of course, my lady - I mean, Kiana.” Josephine smiled shyly.

“If there’s nothing else to discuss… ?” she looked questioningly at Leliana, Josephine and Cullen, all of whom shook their heads. “In that case, please excuse me. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

She walked off briskly, needing to get some air, some space. There were too many responsibilities on her shoulders, and more seemed to be added each time she spoke to any of them. She hadn’t even had time to process what had happened to her, for Maker’s sake! She knew that Leliana would have someone watching her, so she went to her room and pretended to change into her nightclothes when she was actually donning her stealth coat. Placing her daggers, and a pair of the thickest gloves she could find under her pillow, she climbed into bed, pulled the sheets over her.

When Leliana’s woman came to check on her under the guise of bringing her a jug of water for the night, she only saw the Herald reading quietly in bed. Withdrawing quietly in satisfaction, she went to give Leliana her report. 

Soon after the scout had left, Kiana blew out the candles in the room, and in the dim light of the fireplace donned her daggers and gloves. She quietly snuck out of the window, and pulled up the hood of the scout uniform she’d stolen borrowed. Dressed like this, no one gave a second glance to her, and she was able to leave through the main doors peacefully. Once outside, she cloaked herself in stealth and wandered, till she reached the top of a hill that overlooked the village. The Breach glowed eerily in the sky, and she could feel the Anchor thrum quietly.

She climbed up a nearby tree and sat on the branch, taking in the view before her, her mind trying to process the events of the past few days. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember what happened at the Conclave. She knew what happened before, and everything after, but how she ended up with the mark she had no idea. 

She sighed, addressing the nug that was rooting around the base of the tree for food. “They don’t trust me. Which is silly, because they let me make decisions. You have it easy, you know. All you have to do is find food, and hide from predators. Me? I have a glowing thing on my hand that’s chock full of a magic I can’t understand, which just so happens to close the rifts. People have stopped seeing me as _me_ and instead some divine being or something. I’m already being pulled into making decisions I’d rather not, and I just know it’s not going to get any better. You want to know something, Mr. Nug? I’m really, really tempted to just run away from here, and go back to Starkhaven.” She mulled over the thought. “Maybe I will, once the Breach is closed. And the rifts are sealed.” She let out a groan. “Bet it takes forever, though.”

“I wonder if your mind has been addled from the mark, given the fact that you are addressing animals. You do know they can’t talk back to you, yes? It’s not a good thing if they talk back to you.” Solas stepped out of the shadows, a smirk on his face.

She flushed and turned beet red. “Solas! _Maker_ , I didn’t hear you. Have you been following me?” she demanded. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. She jumped down from her perch, and faced him irritably. “Why did you follow me? I just wanted some time alone.”

“ _Da’len_ , it isn’t safe for you to go out alone. It is unfortunate, but nothing can be allowed to happen to you. You are everyone’s only hope.” 

She let out a long groan. “Maker, don’t I know it. Everyone talks as though that’s the only thing about me. _The lady Herald will seal the Breach! Andraste sent her to us with the mark on her hand to show us the Maker cares for us still! She is the chosen of Andraste!_ ” She mocked. 

He let her vent, sympathizing with her situation. He too knew from experience what it felt like to have your individuality taken from you, when you were no longer a person, only a symbol. 

“You know what bothers me the most? It isn’t the fact that they wanted my head at first, and now they praise my name. I can understand that. It’s the fact that they’re letting me make all these decisions when I have no experience! I’ve never been a scout, or a bard. I haven’t had military experience like Cassandra or Cullen. I think I’m actually allergic to dealing with nobles. What makes me better than any of them when it comes to making decisions?” 

“Perhaps they think you possess divine knowledge.” 

“ _Pah._ ” She leaned against the tree trunk. A companionable silence fell between them. He moved to join her under the shadow of the tree. 

“There’s something about you I can’t quite put my finger on.” She spoke lazily, but her words put him on full alert. 

“What do you mean?” He asked carefully.  
_Had she seen something in the Fade? Did she sense something when he had covered her with his magic?_

“I haven't told many people that I was a mage. And never immediately, either. It took me a year before I could confess to Seb, and he was my best friend. But you, I’ve known for all of one week, and you not only managed to figure out I was a mage, but you managed to get the story behind it.” 

She looked at him guardedly. “Given that you know so much about me, I think it’s only fair that I ask you some questions about yourself in return, yes?” 

He smiled. She was full of questions, his _vheranaan_. “I will be only too happy to answer any questions you may have, Kiana.” 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking about where you came from. What’s your story?” 

He faltered for a moment. _What can I tell her?_ She was his mate, the one person in the world he knew he could - should - absolutely trust. And yet… he could not. 

“I grew up in a clan that lived in the Brecilian forest. I came into my magic at a young age, but I was always more interested in the Fade than the practicalities of magic. As a young man, I’d wander around, searching for places where the Veil was thin. I would go to sleep and dream of the events that had taken place there, meeting spirits and seeing memories. I sought out as much of the Fade as I could, till I could learn no more. But in order to find interesting things, one has to be interesting. So I took to travelling, seeking new places, ancient ruins, battlefields. I would camp there and dream at night, learning about the events that had taken place there.” 

He looked at her to catch her listening with rapt attention. “It sounds wonderful. So much history, so many stories. Do you have any interesting ones?” 

He’d just told her he wandered the Fade and spoke to spirits, and she batted not an eye. “I thought it would bother you.” 

“You thought stories would bother me?” 

“No. I thought my travels in the Fade, my conversations with spirits would alarm you.” 

She waved a hand airily. “Not a Circle mage, remember? I’m not your average mage.” She gave that soft, endearing chuckle he’d come to love. “Besides, I too have spoken with spirits. The first time I entered the Fade, I was a young child. It terrified me - naturally - and my fear drew many demons towards me. A spirit of Courage found me, and gave me the strength to repel the demons.” 

He stared at her, stunned. _She spoke with spirits! Is there anything about her that was ordinary?_

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Forgive me, _da’len._ It is just that I have travelled far and wide, and met many people, but I have never once encountered another who not only accepted spirits, but spoke with them.” 

She furrowed her brow. “I can imagine. It’s sad, is it not? That the Circles only see the demons, but not the spirits. They miss out on so much.” She gave him a warm smile. “There I go again, divulging my deepest darkest secrets to you. But I’d much rather listen to your stories of the Fade, Solas.” 

How could he resist when she looked at him like that, her face smiling up at him, eyes gleaming warmly in the moonlight? “I would be more than happy to tell you my stories… on our way back to the village.” 

She sighed and pushed herself away from the tree. “Yes, I suppose it’s time for me to go back.” 

They walked back together, shoulder to shoulder, he talking about his discoveries in the Fade, she listening intently. They reached the village unseen, and snuck inside. He accompanied her to her room. She lingered at the doorway, and sent him a smile over her shoulder. “Thank you for putting up with me." 

He gave her a small smile in return, his heart fluttering. “It was my pleasure, _da’len_.” She gave him one more smile, and slipped inside her room. 

He returned to his room, as giddy and happy as a young man in love. _Which was somewhat true_ , he thought, a smile playing on his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da'len - little one  
> Vheranaan - lioness
> 
> I know Sebastian isn't a favorite character of a lot of people, but I always thought he was a nice guy on the whole. Making him my Trevelyan's friend is one way of making up to him for not taking him in my party often enough!


	4. Chapter 4

He was in the middle of his breakfast when Leliana slipped into his room. “I hear you had a pleasant stroll with the Herald last night.” She gave him an accusing look.

Undeterred, he continued eating. “Yes, it was.” 

“You cannot encourage her to wander off alone. She is far too important for anything to happen to her.”

He put down his spoon, and turned to face her. “I am aware of the fact, as is she. She needed to clear her head. The people around her have gone from accusing her, to calling her an instrument of the divine. She has not yet had time to process the events she had been a part of. She is losing herself, and having new responsibilities thrust upon her. In the midst of all that chaos, I find it perfectly reasonable for one to seek out solitude.

His words calmed her down a little. When she spoke, it was calculating. “She seems to trust you over the rest of us, Solas. Perhaps you can use that to accompany Kiana when she decides to go on another one of her strolls.”

“Should she ask me, indeed I will.”

Leliana’s eyes bored into his. “Nothing can happen to her until the Breach is sealed completely.”

“Spymaster, I will keep her safe as best as I can. You have my word on that.” 

The flame-haired woman nodded, satisfied. “Why does she trust you? I mean no offence, but it doesn’t seem like the two of you have much in common.”

Solas ducked his head to hide a smile. _She has more in common with me than the rest of you._ “I do not know.” He replied smoothly. “Perhaps it is because I cared for her when she was ill?”

“I suppose that could be it. Remember, Solas - no night time strolls alone.” With that, she turned on her heel and silently stalked out of his room. No sooner had she left than Kiana walked in. 

“I’m guessing our efforts at stealth last night failed? I hope she didn’t chew you out too much. It was my fault, after all.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Not at all. The spymaster is merely concerned for your safety, which is only natural. I have been asked to persuade you against lonely strolls at night.”

“ _Eugh._ I make no promises, but I’ll consider it. Or at least drag you along if I must.” Her eyes twinkled at him mischievously. “After all, I must have someone to protect me from talking nugs.”

He chuckled again. “We cannot have the Herald of Andraste receiving orders from a nug!” 

She chortled at the mental image his words conjured. “Always a good day when you have a laugh in the morning, so I thank you for that. I came by to drag you along to Harritt; the blacksmith’s been asked to fit us out with armor. He says he’ll have it completed by the time we’re scheduled to leave for the Crossroads, but only if we see him today.”

“Yes, of course. If you can give me a moment, I will clean up and join you.”

“Take your time! I’ll wait outside.” She left, quietly closing the door behind her, and he was immediately struck by how gloomy his room felt in her absence. He frowned. Even if she was his mate, he could not risk getting attached to her. He had a plan he needed to follow; she was a distraction he could not afford… 

He saw her playing with one of the stray cats that roamed around the village. “I did not take you for a cat person, _da’len._ ” She gave a start, and looked at him guiltily. “I know it is frivolous of me to spend my time playing with the animals, but I can’t help it! I love them all.”

“I promise to protect your secret” he said gravely, but the corners of his lips twitched. 

She punched him lightly on the arm. “Hush, you. Come, let us hurry. I have no wish to listen to one of the Seeker’s lectures on punctuality.” She strode off, and he walked swiftly to catch up. 

“What is your favorite animal?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you liked animals. Which one is your favorite?”

She pressed her lips together. “I know this will sound silly, but… wolves.”

Another unexpected surprise.

“Wolves? That is unusual.”

“Look, I know a lot of people consider them to be nothing but beasts, but to me, they’re intelligent, practical creatures. They have a certain… regality to them, a self-assuredness I haven’t seen in any other creature. They are dear to my heart, and nothing you can say can convince me otherwise.” Her words carried a bite, but the tone softened the sting of them.

He held his hands up. “ _Atisha, da’len_. I am not here to argue or change your mind. As a matter of fact, I too have a fondness for the creatures.” 

She turned her head towards him. “Really?”

“Really.” He rejoiced at her choice, and felt the bond between them grow stronger still. Her pleased look turned to one of puzzlement, and she stared at him momentarily before her eyes settled on his necklace. “Oh yes, of course. I should have known.” The rest of the way was filled with talk about the merchant, Seggritt; or, more accurately, her complaints against his selfishness.

“Here we are.” She stopped in front of the smithy and called out. “Master Harritt, we’ve come for the armor fittings.”

A tough looking, bald, middle-aged man with a long, full mustache approached them. “Right on time, that’s good.” he spoke in a gruff voice. “Who’s going first, then?”

“After you, my lady.” He stretched his hand out politely, indicating her to step forward. She walked with the blacksmith, where they conferred about metals, leathers and cloth. He frowned slightly. For someone who confessed to lacking martial experience, she seemed quite knowledgeable in the armor crafting. He’d have to investigate that at some time. 

Tucking the piece of information away in his mind, he let himself simply admire her build. She had strong, lean legs, and he could make out the musculature of her calves through her leggings. Despite her height, she had envious curves, and for a moment he itched to place his hands on the dip of her waist. Her stomach was flat and toned. She looked nothing like his kind, but she was beautiful regardless. 

She looked at him over her shoulder and grinned; there was an air of exuberance around her that made people around her feel happy to be alive. When she smiled, her eyes invited you to do the same. 

She was… special.

He noted with resentment the looks the men directed towards her. None of them would act on it, for they were too afraid of her, and the people around her, but he could sense their longing, their lust. His reaction to their covetousness annoyed him; it had been a long, long while since he had felt this way, and the emotion felt strange and foreign. 

Once they had settled on a design and materials, she waved him over. “This is Solas.” The smith grunted. “Yer a mage, then?” 

“Quite so.”

“Master Harritt, I know the tendency is to craft robes for mages, but I’d much rather he have a good, sturdy coat. Maybe matching arms and legs for it?” The smith grunted thoughtfully. “Might work. Yer sure ya don’t want any metal?” 

She gave him a questioning look, and he nodded. “We’re sure.” 

_She said we._ Not I, but we. A small flicker of happiness burst in him, and he quickly tamped it down. _Can’t feel that way._

He forced himself to pay attention to the discussion. “I’m thinking a mix of druffalo hide and ram leather, with a lambswool lining. Would that work, do you think?” The smith had picked up the materials, and was adjusting and layering them this way and that. “That’ll work, milady. It’ll give him some dexterity, and help with a bit of magic defence.”

“I think that’ll work for now, given our meagre resources. Once we can get our hands on some better material, I’ll bring them straight to you.” 

“You do that, milady. I’ll have better gear made for you then.” She stood by patiently as the man took down Solas’ measurements. Once he was done, the blacksmith asked them to stop by the next day for initial fittings.

“I hope you didn’t feel left out from our discussion.” She spoke, trying to fill in the silence as they walked towards the Chantry for the midday meal. “Not at all” Solas replied. “I found it interesting. I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about the matter.” 

“I’ve picked up a few things here and there, from experience.” She offered no further explanation, and despite his slight annoyance, he refrained from pressing the issue.

The midday meal was pleasant enough. Everyone was still trying to get to know each other, but wary about stepping on toes. _Andraste’s flaming knickers,_ she thought, _everyone’s so bloody tense and nervous._ An idea popped up in her head, and she grinned. 

“Anyone have any plans for the evening?” It seemed as though everyone had something to do. “Well, too bad. Find a way to wrap it up, or get out of it. We’re all meeting in my room for the evening.”

A group of puzzled faces looked back at her. “Look, we’re in this together, and that means we’re going to be stuck with each other for some time. I’d like to get to know you all better, outside all this… “ she waved her hand erratically, “... this formality. So, you are all going to stop by my room this evening, I’m going to teach you chanson d’argent, and we’ll have a few drinks, and some laughs. I think we could all use some time off, no?”

The others looked at each other uncertainly, and she rushed on, completely ignoring the uneasiness in the air.

“Good! That’s settled then. Varric, I’m sure you can dig up some cards. I’ll talk to Flissa and have her send over the drinks.” She wagged a finger at Cullen. “Commander, no wriggling out of this meeting! I expect to see you there. Now, I believe there are arrangements to be made, so I’ll be taking your leave.” As she walked away, she caught the approving look Varric gave her, and knew she had made the right decision.

He tracked her down to her room at dusk. She’d been busy moving furniture and rearranging it. She’d moved her bed to the side, and pushed all other objects to the wall, clearing a space in the center, where she’d had a table set.

She was dragging the last chair over to the table when he cleared his throat to get her attention. She pushed the chair into position, then turned to face him. “Solas, you’re here early.” She teased. 

“Actually, Kiana, I am here to tell you I will not be joining you this evening.” 

Her face fell slightly. “Why not?”

“I.. I am a bit of a loner. I have not spent much time in group settings, I apologize.”

“I’ve noticed you keep to yourself. Why not try it out once? You’re free to leave the moment you feel uncomfortable. And I promise to have something suitable for you to drink; Josephine will be bringing some Antivan wine. ” 

She gave him a cajoling smile, and he gave in. “Very well, Kiana. I will give it a try.” She smiled warmly. “That’s the spirit!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Card games and confessions.

“… so there I was, trapped against the wall of the Hanged Man by this huge mabari. I was sure the damn thing was going to eat me alive. Instead, it starts to try and hump me; I think it thought I was some sort of toy or something. I shouted, and Hawke came running out. She started laughing as soon as she saw me, but at least she tried pulling it away from me. It just growled at her. Anders just stood by laughing, and I was swearing at them and the dog. Suddenly Hawke goes running down the street, I’m still trapped by this horny beast, have no idea what to do, when she comes back with one of the stray cats that roamed around Ander’s clinic. She places it on the dog’s back, and its claws must have dug into the dog because it gave this yelp and shook the cat off. Thankfully, the dog was distracted and runs off after the cat, and Anders took off after the dog, yelling at it to leave the cat alone. Hawke just stood there laughing and making howling noises. Didn’t live that one down for a month.” Varric concluded.

Everyone roared with laughter. The atmosphere was free and easy, and everyone seemed comfortable. _Well, everyone but Solas_ , she thought. He sat quietly, letting out a small chuckle every now and then, but he still seemed uncomfortable. Or maybe it was her imagination? She didn’t know him all that well after all, but… something about him seemed so familiar and comforting. It was the strangest feeling.

She shook it off. “Okay, so, chanson d’argent. Contrary to the name, it doesn’t actually need to involve money. Basically, everyone is dealt twelve cards from the deck, and the remainder of the deck serves as the well. The goal is to make three sets of four cards from your hand. You can either make sets of the same shape, or the same number, or you can have ascending numbers of the shame shape. You need to create one of each set.

The first player draws a card from the well, and can choose to use it to build their sets or discard it. If they choose to keep the card for themselves, they have to put down another card into the sink. The next player can either choose to pick up the card from the sink, or draw from the well. You must pick up a card, and discard one. Winner is the first one to complete their sets. Does everyone follow?”

“I’m sure we’ll get the hang of it once we start playing,” the commander rumbled. 

Nodding, she dealt the cards, and refilled everyone’s cups; ale for the dwarf and commander and the honeyed mead for herself and Cassandra, while Leliana, Josephine and Solas preferred the sweet Antivan wine. 

A sense of companionship settled over the group, and they played several rounds, sharing stories amidst laughter. The evening came to an end sooner than she’d expected; everyone was pleasantly tipsy but not drunk. It’s a good time for confessions, she thought, trying to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach. _Solas is right. I must tell them._

She cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “I have something to confess.” The prospect of a confession had everyone sitting up tensely, as though bracing themselves for bad news. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solas’ rigid posture, and knew that he knew what she was about to say.

“I… I haven’t exactly been honest with you all. And in the spirit of the evening, it’s only fair that I share myself with you.” She swallowed hard. This was more difficult than she’d expected. “You might have seen me armed with my daggers, and yes, for the most part I wield those. But that is not all that I can do. I’m also a mage.”

Cassandra and Leliana gave her hard looks, while Josephine let out a shocked gasp. Cullen glared back at her, as though expecting her to turn into an abomination any moment. Only Varric and Solas were unconcerned.

“A mage? But I would have sensed it.” Cassandra spoke.

“It is possible that the magic from the Anchor hid hers.” Solas interjected.

“I haven’t heard of a mage from House Trevelyan. Is that why they sent you away?”

Kiana shook her head. “No, my family does not know about my… abilities. I’ve been able to hide them.”

“How did you trick the templars?”

“How did you hide your magic?”

“ _Were_ you responsible for the explosion at the Conclave?”

She answered all their questions as best as she could, repeating the story she’d told Solas, but omitting a few of the more personal details. She didn’t think it was necessary they knew everything.

“As for the templars, well, it wasn’t often that I interacted with them. They kept to themselves near the Circle, and I stayed on my family estate. As far as the Ostwick templars knew, House Trevelyan was a devout, respectable family that showed no sign of magic.” The last sentence was coated with a touch of bitterness.

Everyone was silent for several moments. Cullen stood up suddenly, and directed his temper at her. “That was completely and utterly irresponsible! Trying to learn by yourself was madness. It is a miracle that you succeeded. You put yourself, and everyone around you in danger every single day. You should have been taken to the Circle! You could have practised there safely. Instead, you cared little for the safety of your family.” With that, he stormed off.

“Take no notice of Curly. He’s seen some pretty messed up shit with mages; he’ll come around eventually.” She was grateful for Varric’s words; what Cullen had said had disturbed her and pissed her off and she wasn’t sure how to react to it.

“I am glad you told us, Kiana. That you have managed to hide your power for so long is a testament to your will. If you think this news will have us fear you, do not worry. We trust you.” Cassandra was blunt, but her words were reassuring.

For some strange reason, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“We should be thanking you. It was a good evening, just what we needed.” Josephine was tactful as always. 

Leliana said nothing, but shot a sharp glance at Solas before following the others out of the room. Soon, she was alone with him. Emotionally tired, she sank onto her bed.

“You were brave, letting the others know. You could have chosen to use the mark as a cover for your personal abilities, but you were honest with them.”

“Lies and secrets do not make a good foundation for trust, Solas. There are many battles ahead of us. They need to know that they can trust me to fight with them, defend their back. It was the right thing to do.”

He thought of the countless lies he’d told her, the myriad secrets he held within him. _Would she ever fully trust him?_

“You show a wisdom that belies your age, _da’len_.”

“You keep calling me that, but I can assure you I’m no child.” She spoke drily.

“Technically, it is a term of endearment used for someone who is younger than one, which you are. I did not know you understood elvhen, Kiana.”

She made a careless gesture. “I know only what that means. My family had an elven maid I was fond of. She fed me, bathed me, put me to bed as a child. She would call me that.”

Silence fell between them. 

“Your childhood must have been difficult.”

She stared at him. “Most people would say I had a privileged childhood. Indeed, I think so myself; hailing from a noble family allowed me to hide my abilities far longer than if I were a commoner.” She winced. “Commoner. Maker, that makes me sound like a twat.”

“On the contrary. Coming into power so young, and having to hide it from the world. It must have been incredibly difficult to live in fear and distrust constantly.”

“I… uhhh… it wasn’t so bad.” She stammered. _How did he see into her so clearly?_ “I had Renthis, someone I could wholeheartedly confide and trust in. Few people have that.” She looked at him, her gaze suddenly piercing. “I don’t think you have that, and for that, I am sorry.”

Her sudden insight threw him off balanced and he lapsed into silence.

She moved around the table, clearing up the tankards and glasses, discarding the empty bottles. She needed to keep herself occupied, to stop herself from mulling over the Commander’s words; she knew if she did, she would work herself into a rage and end up saying things she would later come to regret. 

Stewing, she did not hear Solas leave and was a little dispirited when she finished up to find him missing. She’d wanted to ask him about the strange mark on her arm; she hadn’t shown it to anyone else, and the sight of it made her a little uneasy. When she had traced it, there had been a pleasant rush of warmth. She had thought that Solas, with his familiarity with uncommon magic, would have been able to decipher it for her. Plus, as peculiar as it was, she trusted him. _I’ll ask him tomorrow._

She left the table alone; she’d get someone to move it out later. At the moment, she was tired and drowsy, and she curled up thankfully in the bed and immediately fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried investigating to see if I could find anything about chanson d'argent, and all I could find out was it's french for "song of money". So I just made up the rules, including the fact that it can be played for money, or not.
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry Varric but the thought of you pitted against a horny mabari is hilarious.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hinterlands adventures, part 1.

The Hinterlands had surprised her. It was a beautiful place, filled with hills and valleys, meadows blooming with flowers, and rich in herbs. _And_ , she thought to herself irritably, _idiotic templars and mages. And bandits._

They’d come across several rogue templars fighting the Inquisition soldiers on their way from the camp to the Crossroads, and they had rushed to aid their men. The templars had soon been taken care of. There had been many refugees there; every one of them worn and haggard, hungry and cold. 

They had found Mother Giselle in the middle of the chaos, and she had spoken with her. Mother Giselle had tried to gauge her feelings about the Chantry, and had tried to push her into accepting the title of Herald, but she’d been firm that she was only there to help restore order, and the older woman had given up. Still, she’d given them a list of people in the Chantry they could approach, and Scout Harding had immediately dispatched the list via raven to Leliana. She had no doubt Josephine would be busy communicating with them.

One of their men had pleaded with her to aid the refugees, and she’d gladly done so. It had taken them the entire day, but they had managed to hunt down rams, and had soon hauled back enough meat to feed the hungry people there as well as their own men for a week. That simple act had obtained the Inquisition immense gratitude, and she felt bashful. Anyone would have done the same, she’d insisted, but the people there had insisted on calling her Herald more and more often.

They had spent two weeks in the Hinterlands, two long weeks of hunting down rogue templars - which she hadn’t been entirely opposed to - and rogue apostates, which she hadn’t enjoyed. When they’d come across the apostate camp in Witchwood she’d desperately tried to get the terrified men and women gathered there to calm down, but it hadn’t helped. A few of them had turned into abominations, and she’d suspected later most of them had turned to blood magic out of desperation. They’d had to put everyone down, and she was still aching with the all the needless loss.

Soon after they’d faced bandits in the East Side, and with some difficulty had put them down. Varric had discovered that the thugs had been hired by a few dwarfs who had been mining the red lyrium in the region, and was trying to use his contacts in the Dwarven Guild to find out who it was. The thugs had been rather brutish, and despite their victory they’d received quite a beating. 

They’d settled in camp, deciding to rest for a day or two before venturing out towards Redcliffe Farms to meet Master Dennet. The Inquisition needed mounts, and he was the best man to approach. Privately, she hoped to convince the man to join them; his knowledge regarding mounts would be invaluable.

She sat at the makeshift table and penned out reports to Leliana and Cullen. To Leliana, she mentioned the red lyrium smugglers, and enclosed whatever information they had gathered from examining the dead miners and the bandits.

Cullen, however, was more difficult. Things were still a little frosty between them, despite - or maybe because of - her confrontation with the Commander.

She thought back to it with a rueful smile on her face. Two days after his outburst, she’d strode up to him in when he’d been in the middle of training. “Commander, I need to speak with you.” she’d insisted, and had been aggravated when he’d paid her no heed. She’d ignored the stares of the men and had firmly planted herself in front of him. “Either we go somewhere and hash this out properly like adults, or I make a scene in front of your men. Your choice.” He’d glared at her, but had dismissed his men. They’d walked to the boathouse by the frozen lake.

“Let me start off by saying I do not give a nugshit about what you think of me. You’re welcome to your thoughts. But I do object to being labelled dangerous. Especially since your thoughts on that matter seem to have rubbed off on some of your men.” 

He’d tried to object, but she’d silenced him with a look. She’d been in no mood for his arguments. “Whether or not I belong in a Circle is moot. And personally, while I sympathize with all you suffered at Kinloch - truly, I do - you should know better about what being in a Circle does to mages. After all, you were there at Kirkwall.”

She’d watched shame slowly rise up his face, but pressed on, relentless. “My only friend was taken to the Ostwick Circle when she was eleven. She did what was asked of her, studied well, passed her Harrowing. She was was good and kind. When the Circles fell, she died trying to protect children from templars. _Children_ , Cullen. Some of them had been mere babes. Don’t tell me mages are dangerous. Anyone can be dangerous.” With that, she’d stomped off, giving him no chance to reply. Thinking of Laura had made her bitter, and she’d needed to get away.

She put the quill down with a sigh. No matter how justified she was, she should not have brought up Kinloch. It had been wrong of her to use that against him. From what Cassandra said, the man had changed. He’d joined the Inquisition trying to follow a new path, after all; it was low of her to drag his past up. 

Picking up her quill again, she quickly wrote down her report.

_Commander,  
We’ve managed to eliminate both the rogue templar and apostate strongholds. The bandits have also been taken care of; we’ve seen some red lyrium mining activity, and have marked the areas. They need to be destroyed safely before others can get their hands on the stuff. Varric tells me you have experience at that, and so I leave the matter in your capable hands._

_We have sealed several rifts in the area, and have recruited a few people. Corporal Vale is on his way to join your men. Accompanying him are Scout Ritts and Enchanter Ellandra - Ritts will be an invaluable aid to Leliana I’m sure, and Maker knows Haven could use the services of a healer as talented as Ellandra. I also send several bags of herbs with them; I hope they come in useful._

_We move onwards towards Redcliffe Farms in the hopes of securing mounts for the Inquisition. I shall keep you updated._

_Yours in service,  
Kiana Trevelyan_

_P.S. We should talk when I get back. I owe you an apology._

She folded up the letter and sealed it before handing it to the requisitions officer. She walked over to the campfire and sat down, taking the hash and bread Solas offered her with a grateful sigh.

“Not a fan of writing reports?” He inquired.

She shook her head, giving a heavy sigh. “Not really, no.” 

“I do not understand why they need reports from each of us. What is the point? My reports are better delivered in person.” Cassandra grumbled, having overheard their conversation. 

“Speak for yourself, Seeker. My reports are delightful.” Varric piped up.

“What your reports are, are blatant lies. ‘The Herald fought three bears single-handedly?’ Give me a break, Varric, we both know it was eight bears, and you forgot to mention I fought them barehanded.” She joked.

Cassandra let out a disgusted huff. “I do not know why you encourage him, his stories are bad enough as it is without you giving him more ideas.”

Solas watched their interaction silently, enjoying their banter. She got along well with everyone, and she was always protective over them. On more than one occasion the Seeker had had to chide her for trying to defend them where it was not necessary, a sentiment he agreed with. They’d finally gotten her to agree to come to their aid only when absolutely necessary, but that hadn’t stopped her from throwing a barrier around them when she should have focused on herself.

“I can’t believe we’ve been walking for two weeks, and we still have more walking to do.” The dwarf complained. “Will this misery never end?”

“Redcliffe Farms isn’t too far off from here. Another week at the most, and we can return to Haven - hopefully with horses in tow.”

“The only thing worse than walking is horses. How do you expect me to ride one?”

“If you do not stop complaining Varric, I will throw you into a sack and across a horse on our journey back.” Cassandra threatened.

Kiana watched amusedly as the two bickered, they never failed to entertain her. Despite her seeming animosity towards the dwarf, she knew Cassandra enjoyed his company - not that she’d ever admit it, of course.

“Are you enjoying the show as well?” Solas leaned in and whispered. She nodded, chuckling. “Dinner and a show; things don’t get much better than this, do they?”

“When you are done with your meal, I would like to take another look at the wound.” She rolled her eyes. A sellsword had managed to graze his sword along her ribs, but from the way Solas hovered around her you’d think she’d taken a dagger to the lungs. “You fret too much. It’s only a shallow cut, it’s healing.”

“Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if you let me look. It was a poisoned weapon and I’d like to make sure it’s healing right.”

“ _Augh_ , fine. Let’s do this now and get it over with.” She was impatient, and embarrassed. Embarrassed because few had ever shown her the consideration Solas did, and also because… _he’s attractive_ , she admitted to herself, trying not to blush.

They went into her tent and she pulled up her tunic, allowing him to examine the wound. He touched it gently, softly prodding the skin around it, checking for lingering redness. She felt herself wondering about how his touch would feel under different circumstances, and blushed hotly. _Stop thinking that!_ She chided herself. 

He pulled back and noted her flushed face worriedly. “Does it pain? Did I hurt you?”

She felt her blush deepen - if that were possible - and stammered out. “No, not at all.” _I need an excuse!_ She thought frantically. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to having people check on me. It’s still strange to me.”

He gave her a sympathetic look, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. “The wound is healing well. I think maybe a day more rest, and then we can be on our way.” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and watched silently as he left the tent.

 _Maker’s all-seeing eye, what was this she was feeling?_ She was no naive little girl, and knew how attraction and lust worked, knew how it felt to be drawn to another. She wanted to dismiss her feelings toward Solas as simple lust, the attraction a side effect of spending day after day in close quarters with him. And yet, she knew it was not. There was something else there; something that ran deeper. His presence brought comfort, and felt familiar. His magic did not feel strange or harsh, it felt like it _belonged_. She had known him but for a few weeks; it was bizarre that she felt this way.

She rolled her shoulders. _Maybe it’s because he healed me when I was unwell? That must have affected how I react to his magic, surely. And why he feels so familiar and comfortable. That must be it._ She tried to analyze it logically and rationally. _It’ll go away in some time. We’re just friends, after all._

But there was a small part of her that wished they were more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hinterlands adventures, part 2.

Meeting Horsemaster Dennet was far more labor-intensive than she’d expected. Not only had they come across rifts - one of which had thrown out some ridiculously powerful demons and had flattened them more than once - but they’d learned from his wife about some wolves terrorizing the region. His head farmhand had insisted that they set up watchtowers. And while she was more than happy to help out, she resented the fact that they tried to use the horses as some sort of bait.

Nevertheless, she understood that these people were just scared, and that knowledge prevented her from being too harsh with them. They’d taken two days to recover from sealing the damned rifts in the region - she was still rather annoyed over the one that had thrown out the despair demons and greater terrors - and then proceeded to hunt down the wolves.

They’d tracked down the wolves to a cave tucked away by the river. Kiana had really, _really_ loathed the idea of slaughtering them outright, and wanted to find an alternate solution. She loved the creatures, and the thought of killing them seemed distasteful to her.

Approaching the cave had alerted the wolves, and a few of them attacked their party. She quickly threw up a barrier over them all. “Do not kill them!” She cried out. “Push them away if you can, or else see if you can knock them out. There is something strange going on here.”

Cassandra grunted in annoyance. “You want these wolves to kill us? Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad - can’t you feel it? There’s something in the air here, something evil.”

Solas answered gravely. “Indeed, the Herald is right. I can feel a disturbance. These wolves do not act of their own will.”

She and Solas kept the part safe from the wolves, constantly throwing up barriers, as they headed deeper into the cave. “Look!” She exclaimed. “A demon!” The terror demon rushed at them, as did the wolves. They tried to focus on the demon, but the attack of the wolves kept distracting them. It was clear to the lot of them that they had been driven mad by the demon.

She saw the terror demon approaching her, saw the wolves getting ready to launch another attack on her friends. She knew she had to choose between throwing up a barrier for herself, or saving her friends. The barrier would protect her from the demon, but the others would definitely have to kill the wolves to protect themselves…

She made her choice, and with a sweep of her hand, created a wall of ice that froze the wolves in place. She tried to dodge the demon, but it had apparated behind her; before she could defend herself, it had raked its claws down her back. 

She let out a pained yelp. “You bastard!” She grit out. She spun around quickly, and rammed her daggers into it. It geared up for another attack, and this time she was able to dodge _most_ of its claws; she felt something cut across her chest.

There was a sickly squelch as she raised her daggers again, and she realized it came from her. Thankfully, she soon had help; Cassandra was deflecting the creature’s blows away from her. She brought her daggers down on the demon’s back, and with a horrible cry, it exploded. She sank to her knees on the ground, suddenly dizzy. “The wolves,” she rasped out “Are they okay?” Solas had caught up with her, tugging at her armor. “They are fine. You are not; I need to heal you. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood, _da’len_.”

“Maker, Kiana, you are truly mad. You nearly got yourself killed trying to protect these wolves!” Cassandra berated her hotly, but she hardly heard the words.

“The Seeker’s right. You might want to let us know what you plan to do before you rush in next time, Blades.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out as a pained wheeze. Solas had pulled off her armor, and was examining the wounds and chiding her, although his words had a tinge of anxiety. “You take too many risks, Herald.”

“What can I say,” she gritted her teeth as he cleaned the wounds with water, “I have a soft spot for wolves.” His hand stilled briefly before he sent a healing spell through her skin. 

The wolves gathered around them, yipping softly. They seemed aware that she had been injured trying to help them. Solas watched in amazement as they nuzzled against her, licking every part of her that was exposed to them. 

She was giggling. “Come on, guys, let Solas finish up before we get to introductions.” They seemed to understand what she said, and the largest wolf - the Alpha, no doubt - pushed the others back and curled up next to her, letting out little huffs and grunts. Once Solas was satisfied she would be all right, he stood up and walked over to where Cassandra and Varric stood. As soon as he left, the wolves rushed in, all snuffling and snuggling against her. She was soon covered by wolves, but they could hear her laughter.

“I did not think I would say this, but I am glad we spared the wolves.” Cassandra said. Her eyes were soft as she took in the scene before her.

“Me too.” Varric’s voice sounded strangely scratchy.

He said nothing; there was a strange feeling in him that he could not explain.

She got up and walked over to them, the animals following her. “Look, they gave me this” she said, holding out an amulet. It was a silver disc with the image of a howling wolf, held on a thin leather cord. 

“It must be the Token of the Packmaster.” he said, startled. “They are exceedingly rare, only given to those who command the loyalty of their kind. You are now beloved by all of them.”

“Oh,” she murmured, pleased. She slipped the amulet over her head and felt it thrum softly. She hunched down with the wolves again, and petted every one of them, thanking them softly, and asking them to stay safe. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded silly; but coming from her, it seemed just so _right_.

When they settled into camp for the night, all anyone could talk about was the wolves, the story getting wilder and wilder each time Varric told it. She shook her head in amusement, and continued to pen her reports.

_Commander,  
We found Horsemaster Dennet. He has agreed to provide mounts for the Inquisition in exchange for a few favors. I have agreed to them, for they seem to be for the benefit of the people here. His head farmhand, Bron, wishes to set up a few watchtowers nearby as an early warning system; I have marked a few suitable locations based on his recommendations. Perhaps Josephine can consult with the local nobles and have them built. They will be for everyone’s benefit, after all._

_Today we tracked down a wild pack of wolves. Well, they weren’t really wild, they had only been driven mad by a terror demon. We managed to destroy the demon, freeing the wolves from its influence. The people here should be safe now._

_Horsemaster Dennet has agreed to return with us to Haven, to take care of the mounts. I am exceedingly glad, for he is immensely knowledgeable. We shall return with several mounts; it would help greatly if the stables were cleaned and expanded. Perhaps a suitable punishment for an errant recruit?_

_Yours in service,  
Kiana Trevelyan_

\-----------------------------------------------

_Sister Leliana,  
Horsemaster Dennet is now with the Inquisition, as are a few of his horses. The region here has been stabilized; we have eradicated most, if not all, of the bandits. I found a few letters on them referring to a Fortress somewhere; could your scouts investigate this? I suspect it may have something to do with the red lyrium miners we found. The sooner we wrap this up, the better. From what Varric says, the stuff is exceedingly dangerous and I'll be glad to put an end to it. I’m enclosing all the notes and orders we’ve found so far with this report._

_We met someone on the farm, a new farmhand who had arrived a few days before us from Redcliffe. He mentioned something about a strange rift on the outskirts of the village. We thought at first it was only a rift like the many we’ve come across, but he’s insistent that it resembles nothing of the ones that were near the farm. It looks like something we should look into._

_Yours in service,  
Kiana Trevelyan_

_P.S. We saw a dragon in the skies the other day, headed northeast. Inform our people in the Dusklight camp to be wary._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans!

The return to Haven was uneventful. They had stopped at the Crossroads on their way, and she had noted with pleasure that things seemed to be settling down; the refugees were no longer cold and starving. One of their recruits, Whittle, had informed them that the region was stable, and that more and more people flocked to the Crossroads because they had heard it was protected by the Inquisition. “Word’s spread, milady. They all know the Inquisition is doing something to keep them safe. Support for the Inquisition’s growing day by day.” The news had been welcome in the midst of the bad news coming out from the Chantry. Josephine’s efforts at communication had only earned them an audience, but no support.

“They want you to meet them in Val Royeaux.” Josephine said, nervously drumming her quill against the noteboard that was always in her hand.

“Travel to Val Royeaux? For what? They have declared me a heretic; if I go there, what’s the guarantee they won’t throw me into prison or worse, have me beheaded?” She protested.

“I agree with Kiana, it is madness if she travels there.” Cassandra agreed.

“They want to meet her in person; that is the only condition they have for talking with us. I don’t like it, but we have no other choice. If we are to have more allies, we need to meet with them.” Josephine sighed.

“What is with everyone wanting to meet me in person?” She muttered irritably. “I haven’t gone around parading myself as the Herald of Andraste. It is the people who insist on calling me that - why don’t they talk to _those_ people?”

She saw Leliana and Josephine exchange a guilty look. “What is it?” She demanded. “You’re up to something, I can tell.”

Josephine looked at her guiltily. “We may have… _encouraged_ … it.” She said. “We haven’t outright declared you as the Herald,” she added hurriedly, “but we haven’t stopped the talk, either. We need allies to close the Breach, and, well, if posturing helps our cause…” she trailed off meekly.

“ _Augh_ why am I not surprised? Josephine, I told you I had no interest in being some sort of religious figure. I don’t _want_ it! I’ve had women come up to me and ask me to bestow Andraste’s blessings on their children. _Me_! Andraste’s holy mantle, you need to solve this, I can’t deal with any more of it.”

Leliana spoke in her smooth Orlesian accent. “Perhaps the best thing would be to meet the Chantry in Val Royeaux. Once you do, maybe the people will go back to the Chantry if they see the Chantry supporting you.”

“If that has a chance, I’m willing to risk potential beheadment.” she groaned. Josephine opened her mouth to say something, but Kiana cut her off. “Josephine, I cannot take any more right now. I’m going to go back to my room, indulge myself with a long bath, then I’m going to get drunk. It’s only been a day since I got back from the Hinterlands. We’ll deal with all this tomorrow.”

Josephine nodded with an empathetic smile. “Please, go ahead. You deserve it.”

She walked out of the Chantry, intending to go straight to her room. Remembering her need to talk to the Cullen, she took a detour to his quarters. Knocking on the door lightly, she heard a gruff “Come in.” He glanced up, and stiffened when he saw her. “Yes, Herald?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, not you too. I’m fed up of everyone calling me that. I have a _name_ , it’s Kiana. You can call me that.” His shoulders relaxed imperceptibly. “What can I do for you, Kiana?”

She walked over to his desk. “I wanted to apologize to you, Cullen, for what I said that day. It was wrong of me to bring up your past, wrong of me to use it against you. That you are with the Inquisition speaks volumes about the kind of man you are now.” She looked at him. “Perhaps you will never like me, but I hope for the sake of the others we can get along.” With that, she turned and walked to the door.

“Kiana?” He called out. She turned towards him. “I’m sorry too.” He got up from his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. She found his nervousness charming. “I’ve been thinking and… while I might not agree with your methods, I can’t deny their result. It was wrong of me to judge you. I think you are an incredible woman, and I hope that we can be friends.” He smiled crookedly, extending his hand out towards her. She gripped it, and they shook hands, grinning at each other. “Friends?” She asked. “Friends.” He agreed, nodding. 

She walked out of his room, smiling, unaware that Solas was watching. She knew that she could relax fully now, without the guilt gnawing away at her.

A few hours later, the sound of someone singing loudly rang through the quiet night. The sun had long set, and most of the villagers were either in bed or in the tavern - depending on their mood, of course - and so the singing was completely out of place.

And completely out of character, too.

Solas grinned to himself as he heard her sing a tavern song.

_I envy no mortal though ever so great_  
_Nor scorn I a wretch for his lowly estate;_  
_But what I abhor and esteem as a curse_  
_Is poorness of spirit, not poorness of purse._

_If sorrow, the tyrant, invade the breast_  
_Haul out the foul fiend by the lug, the lug!_  
_Let no thought of the morrow disturb your rest_  
_But banish despair in a mug, a mug!_

_Then dare to be generous, dauntless and gay_  
_Let us merrily pass life’s remainder away;_  
_Upheld by our friends, we our foes may despise_  
_For the more we are envied, the higher we rise._

_If the business, unluckily, goes not so well,_  
_Let the fond fools their affections flirt and hug!_  
_To show our allegiance we’ll go to The Bell,_  
_And drown out our sorrows in a mug, a mug!_

He walked out of his room and saw the others gathered outside, amused. “I gather we are all drawn to the same thing?” He queried, a small smirk on his face.

Before anyone could answer, the door was flung open, and there she stood, a broad, silly smile on her face. “You’re all heeeeeere! C’mon let’s go to the tavern. My bottle’s empty!” She swayed a little, and Leliana caught her. 

“Thanks, Lady Nightsong. No, wait, Lady Tingaling. No, that’s not right” she shook her head. “Can’t remember. But thanks!”

She caught sight of him. “Solas!” She had another soppy grin. “D’you wanna join me? Flissa can get some’f that relly nice wine I bet.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen huffed, “she’s going to positively _hate_ herself come tomorrow.”

She swung her arms out, narrowly missing Cassandra, and broke out into another song.

_Fill the goblet again! For I never before_  
_Felt that glow that now gladdens my heart to its core;_  
_Let us drink! Who would not? Since though life’s varied round,_  
_In the goblet alone no deception is found._

_I have tried in its turn all that life has supplied,_  
_I have basked in the beam of a dark rolling eye;_  
_I have loved! Who has not? But what heart can declare,_  
_That pleasure existed whilst passion was not there._

_In the bright days of youth when the heart’s in it’s spring,_  
_And dreams that affection can never take wing;_  
_I have friends! Who has not? But what tongue will avow,_  
_That friends, rosy wine, are so faithful as thou?_

They watched amusedly as she swayed slightly and, on hearing their applause, she solemnly took a bow - or tried to, for she toppled over. Laughing, Cassandra and Leliana hauled her up, and pulled her over to her bed. 

“Go on now, we’ll get her settled in bed. Someone ask Adan to get a potion ready, or she’ll be miserable tomorrow.” Leliana called out before shutting the door.

Josephine and Cullen left, still smiling. “I can’t wait to have a drink with Blades; if I’d known she was this much fun I’d have dragged her to the tavern sooner!” Varric snickered. “Well, it’s good to know she knows some good tavern songs. She’ll get along with everyone.” With that, he headed off to his room, leaving Solas alone.

He walked back to his room, entertained. She had many sides to her, this woman who bore his magic. He remembered the days so long ago, when he had visited the tavern with friends and sung the old elvhen tavern songs. He sighed, saddened by memories of things that were no longer to be. _At least she can be carefree. However long it lasts…_ he walked over to the table where he mixed up his elixers, and mixed a restorative for her. His was better than Adan’s could ever be, and would serve her well. He slipped into her room once the others had left, and placed it by her table with a note: _Drink this, and you will feel better._ He looked at her once before leaving; she looked peaceful, a soft smile playing on her lips. He wanted to know what she dreamed of , and hurried back to his room, suddenly eager to visit her in the Fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinkings songs from the A Tankard Of Ale website (here's the link: http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/tankard-ale/ if you want to check it out!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Val Royeaux...

Val Royeaux was everything she hated. Throngs of snooty, expensively dressed nobles, with servants skittering behind them fearfully. It was beautiful, she couldn’t deny it, and she’d already seen a few stores she knew she’d like to visit at some point of time.

Still, the obnoxious display of wealth annoyed her, especially when it could have been put to better use.

Their arrival at Val Royeaux hadn’t been what she’d expected. The people who saw them knew who there were, and shied away in fear. Then they’d been told by one of Leliana’s scouts that it was not only the Chantry mothers who awaited her, the city was full of templars. 

Apparently, the people here thought the templars could protect them from the Inquisition. She gave an unladylike snort, and told the scout to report to Leliana. 

“Only one thing to do then,” Cassandra said, and they all began walking towards the far side of the market, where the Chantry awaited them… as did the templars.

The scene at the marketplace was ridiculously dramatic, and she found herself rolling her eyes more than once. 

“Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved fell.”

_Maker preserve her from these morons_. She knew that she could not afford lose her patience when dealing with them, not when they were trying to unite the people and gain allies.

“You say I am the enemy? The Breach in the sky is our _true_ enemy. We _must_ unite to stop it!”

Cassandra had supported her, insisting that the Inquisition’s sole purpose was to deal with the Breach. 

With a dramatic toss of her arms, the woman - who was she again? Revered Mother Hevara, that was her name - declared something about it already being too late - Kiana couldn’t stop the eyeroll that followed - but the sound of armor clanking caught her attention, and she realized that the templars were approaching.

She stiffened, subtly bracing herself for battle, but she was utterly shocked by what happened next.

The Lord Seeker walked onto the podium, and his second-in-command… _punched_ the Chantry sister in the head. One of the templars looked aghast, but said nothing.

She addressed the Lord Seeker. “You’re not here for the Inquisition?”

The man replied in a snobbish tone that made her want to rip off his arm and beat him over the head with it. “As if there were any reason to.”

Cassandra seemed dubiously relieved at his presence. “Lord Seeker, it is imperative that we speak to-”

The man cut her off. “You will not address me.”

Kiana felt her blood heat up, felt her magic sizzle, and she wrapped her hand around the hilt of her dagger for control.

Cassandra was shocked, and even more so when he flung accusations at her.

“The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!” Oh, she would kill the man. She bayed for his blood, hungered for it.

_Calm down, Kiana. Now is not the time._ She could feel her control slowly slipping, and Solas must have realized it too for he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She heard him accuse the Seeker of failing, and nearly laughed. Only one man raised any objections, and it was the same one who had been shocked by the Lord Seeker’s treatment of Mother Hevara. She narrowed her gaze speculatively. If he objected, perhaps there were other templars who did so as well. Maybe they could be swayed to join the Inquisition. She made a mental note to talk to Cullen and Leliana about it.

The dramatics ended with the Lord Seeker marching out of Val Royeaux with his templars, much to the complete and utter shock of the people residing there. 

They approached the Chantry mother again, who once again resorted to dramatics. Kiana couldn’t stop herself, and called out Mother Hevara for being the cause of it - after all, she had been the ones to call the templars in. Even Cassandra chided the woman.

Feeling hopeless, they were on their way out of the city when a mysterious arrow landed mere inches from where she stood. She felt Solas cast his barrier over them, and they all looked around for the perpetrator. Not finding anyone, she walked to the arrow and noticed a note attached, giving her directions for some kind of treasure hunt. Following the clues, she pieced together a note with a location, a key, and a time.

By this time, everyone was more curious than apprehensive, and it was an unspoken agreement that they would travel there, if only to meet the mysterious “friend of Red Jenny” who had sent the note, although the mention of ‘baddies’ in the note had them slightly on edge.

They reached the secluded courtyard as the sun was setting, only to be immediately ambushed. It was easy work taking out the mercenaries. Stepping over the bodies, they pressed on and she opened a blue door. There was a lone man there, wearing a mask, and he immediately shot fireballs at her. She only just managed to jump out of the way.

Utterly confused, she tried asking the man who he was, but he would not stop posturing about his importance. Before he could say any more, a slender elven woman with blonde hair that was chopped into an unruly bob appeared from the shadows and struck him dead with an arrow.

After some conversation - well, on her part anyway, the elf was really confusing - there were more mercenaries attacking them. Only these ones had no pants on - she knew it had been the woman’s doing, and the sight of the breech-less men wielding swords and charging at them was too much to bear, and she chuckled the entire time they were fighting.

After the chaos, she finally learnt the blond elf’s name - Sera - and happily granted her request to join the Inquisition. She had a feeling Sera would keep things interesting. They spent the night at the local inn, before returning to Haven the next day. On their way out of Val Royeaux, a messenger accosted them with a invite for her from Vivienne de Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard.

She took the fact that the woman still insisted on calling herself First Enchanter at a time when the Circles no longer existed as a bad sign. Still, she needed to discuss this with the others before a conclusion was reached.

They ran into Grand Enchanter Fiona on their way back, which was entirely unexpected. After all, the leader of the mage rebellion in a city crawling with hostile templars didn’t seem likely. After a short conversation during which she urged them to consider an alliance with the mages - something that, truth be told, had crossed her mind a few times - she left, her parting words an invite to Redcliffe Village to meet with her and the other mages.

They reached Haven the following afternoon, tired and frazzled. Cassandra had been unusually quiet after interacting with the Lord Seeker, and neither she nor Varric could draw her out. She decided to give the woman some time, and after cleaning up, went to talk to Cullen and Leliana about the possibility of drawing a few templars to their side. It was decided that Cullen was to reach out to a few of them, including Ser Barris, the uncertain templar from Val Royeaux. 

She gave Leliana a brief rundown of the events at Val Royeaux, with Leliana being similarly confused as to the Lord Seeker’s supposedly bizarre behavior. She had been hopeful at the thought of a potential mage alliance; it was during their conversation that Kiana learned how much Leliana empathized with the mages. She immediately went from being a ‘dangerous spymaster’ to someone more human in her mind.

Their meeting before supper in the War Room had been frustrating, with Leliana advocating for the mages, while Cullen was staunchly for the templars. Cassandra and Josephine remained neutral, offering pros and cons for both sides. They had finally concluded with everyone agreeing that she needed to go talk to the mages before coming to a final decision.

After supper, she checked in on Sera, curious to see how the woman was fitting in. By the sound of the noise in the tavern, she gathered that the elf was settling in just fine. Weary, she headed towards her rooms, but the thought of being alone wasn’t appealing. And she didn’t feel particularly comfortable yet to ask the women in the Inquisition she knew for their company.

Without thinking, she headed for Solas’ room and rapped lightly on the door. “Come in.” he called out. She walked in, shutting the door behind her, and sat on his bed with a sigh. He glanced at her, and returned to the book he was reading. “Long day?” He inquired.

“Not really. Well, maybe. Just tired of all the drama and politics.” 

He looked at her, his brows raised. “Rather unfortunate. There will be plenty more in the future.”

She sighed again. “I know. I can deal with it, but it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.” She whined. She turned her attention to the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He held up the book so she could see it better. _“The Fade, and The Inhabitants Thereof._ Interesting title. Is it any good?”

“Woefully misinformed for the most parts, although there are a few pieces of good information scattered here and there.” 

She grinned. “You should write a book about the Fade, Solas. You are, after all, the resident expert in the matter.”

“Do you make fun of me, Herald?” He asked with a smile.

“On the contrary, _ser_. I bow to your knowledge. Oh!” She exclaimed, remembering the mark she’d wanted to ask him about, “speaking of knowledge, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Please, continue. I’ll be happy to assist in any way I can.”

“It’s not a question, not really? There’s this strange mark that I got… I think I got it at the same time as the Anchor. I’m not sure what it is - it looks almost like writing? I was hoping you could tell me more about it.” She spoke blithely, unaware that he had tensed up.

“Of course, _da’len_.”

She rolled up her sleeve, and showed him her upper left hand, where a series of marks in black - some sort of script - could be seen. He took her arm, and brought it closer to the candlelight. He ran his finger over it, and she nearly buckled over with the pleasure that coursed through her. “ _Maker’s balls_ ,” she hissed, tugging her hand free.

He gave her a concerned look, but there was something darker, something dangerous hidden in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

Suddenly discomforted, she stammered out. “No… no, it didn’t hurt.”

“But you felt something?”

She flushed, and turned her head away in frustration. _How does this man manage to reduce me to a blushing virgin all the time?_ She cleared her throat. “I hadn’t expected to feel anything… it startled me. Can you decipher what it reads?”

He gazed back at her, something unknown hidden in his features, and her heart started to beat harder. He pulled his gaze away, as though doing so took some effort. _Interesting_ , she thought.

“It is a script, you are correct, but I cannot decipher what it says. If you’d like, I can do some research into the matter.”

“I’d appreciate it, Solas.” Suddenly, she needed to get out of there, get away from _him_. “Good night.”

He nodded and she returned to her rooms, still flustered over what she’d felt earlier. She ran her finger experimentally over the script, and felt a pleasant warmth course through her, but none of the pleasure she’d felt when he’d touched it.

_It doesn’t make sense_. She hated when things didn’t make sense, so she knew she’d have to look into the matter herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish there was an option to really berate the Chantry mothers in Val Royeaux after the Templars leave. They're so accusing, when all I want to do is help! _That's what I'm there for, people!_
> 
> I hate Lord Seeker Lucius, I'd have totally enjoyed punching him. And I wish there was a way to charm Barris over to the Inquisition while we're at it! He's such a nice guy.


	10. Chapter 10

She really, really, _really_ did not like Madame de Fer.

Everything about the woman rubbed her the wrong way; her arrogance, her dismissal of those she considered beneath her station, her constant thinly veiled insults.

It didn’t help that the woman was ridiculously vociferous over reinstating the Circles and restoring the Templar Order.

_What does she know?_ The woman clearly had never lifted a finger in aid of another except when it would benefit her. It galled her that her presence in the Inquisition was a political move on Vivienne's part.

If the woman didn’t stay away from her, she would not be held responsible for her behavior.

She gritted her teeth as she ignored the woman’s complaints over the meal they were in the middle of. She didn’t understand why Josephine kept pandering to the woman; why couldn’t they just kick her out of the Inquisition? She made a note to talk to Leliana about it; Cassandra kept muttering about how she was talented and had connections to the Imperial Court.

_Screw her, and screw her connections._

But Josephine had pleaded with her to ‘try and get along with Vivienne’ and she had a soft spot for the Antivan, so she’d agreed.

It wasn’t easy though.

Her behavior had driven away most of her companions. Varric and Sera preferred taking their meals in the tavern rather than sitting with her, and Solas had taken to having his meals in his room. Even Cullen had been coming up with training-related reasons to avoid joining them.

Really, their argument was long-overdue.

“Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned.” Vivienne sniffed.

“That makes no sense at all. One could argue that a blade is dangerous, yet there are people who wield it, and wield it well. The same goes for magic.” She argued, hotly.

Vivienne turned up her nose. “As you will no doubt have a hand in shaping it, what future do you see for mages?”

“Mages should be free, of course.”

Vivienne had erupted into something about how letting mages roam free would only bring chaos to the rest of the people, but she’d barely paid attention.

“The problem, Madame de Fer, is that I cannot take you seriously. Don’t get me wrong, I respect your talent, and your ambition. But I don’t respect you. You represent the problem with all mages; you fear your own power. I’m surprised you have no sympathy for the plight of your fellow mages. How many mages have been killed since the start of the mage-templar war? Have you any idea how _helpless_ mages are, outside the Circles, because they have been kept cloistered and locked up all their lives? You say the Circles gave them all they needed - shelter, food, clothing. But does not a prison offer the same? Why should they have to live a life of someone else's choosing, with a constant sword over their head? Why should mages be taught to fear themselves, to fear their own power? Magic is a part of them, just like their sight. Fearing their own magic only causes mages to have less willpower, less control over it. You talk disdainfully about Grand Enchanter Fiona, but the woman at least listens to her fellow mages! You would crush any opinion that doesn’t align with yours.

I think that it would be best for the both of us if you focused your efforts in the Inquisition on aiding Josephine. I’m sure the connections you spoke of when we first met would be better handled by her. I could not possibly think of taking you out on the field, certainly not someone of your… advanced age.”

Her jab at the First Enchanter worked, and the woman had positively glowered at her before stomping off.

Kiana let out a huff. Now that the confrontation was over, she could move along to more important things - like meeting with the mages, for a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, whoops. I _might_ have been rather pissed off at Vivienne when I wrote it... but at least she won't become Divine now, wheee.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's happening at Redcliffe??!?!

Before going to meet Grand Enchanter Fiona, it was decided that they search for a Warden that Leliana had spoken of regarding the missing Grey Wardens. They had tracked him down to Lake Luthias in the Hinterlands, and had arrived in time to see him warding off an attack by bandits. They’d joined into the fray, and soon the bandits were put down. She had been impressed with how well he handled himself in battle.

Warden Blackwall hadn’t been aware of the disappearance of the Grey Wardens, as he’d been on the road without contact, but he was adamant that the Order had nothing to do with the Divine’s death. They had been disappointed that they were still in the dark about the Grey Wardens, but after her conversation with him Blackwall had offered to join the Inquisition, and she’d accepted, so it hadn’t been a total failure. They directed him towards the nearest camp, from where he could make his way back to Haven, and pressed on towards Redcliffe Village.

Redcliffe Village was… spooky, she decided. There was a sinister energy that permeated through it, and all the people who occupied it wore taut, helpless expressions on their faces.

The rift outside the village had been very different from anything she’d encountered. There was some elaborate sorcery woven around the rifts; everyone noted with uneasiness how certain regions seemed to speed up time, while others caused it to slow.

Varric shivered. “Let’s just find the Grand Enchanter and get this over with quickly. This place gives me the creeps!”

Even Solas, who was usually stoic no matter what, seemed disturbed. “The Fade here is different, altered. I do not like it.”

Their scout met them at the gates. “Your Worship. I’ve informed the people here you were to arrive, but none of them seemed to expect you.”

“Surely the Grand Enchanter knows the reason for our presence” Cassandra spoke.

“No, Seeker Pentaghast. The Inquisition was not expected here.”

A mage walked up to them. “Are you the Herald? My master, Magister Alexius is in charge here. He is currently unavailable but should arrive soon. In the meantime, you can meet with Fiona, the former Grand Enchanter.” With a bow, he directed them to the local pub, the Gull and Lantern.

_A magister? Here? And what did he mean? Was Fiona serving the magister? What in the Void is going on here? _The questions ran through her head rapidly one after the other. They walked towards the Gull and Lantern, aware of the stares they received. _Everyone looks so worn and helpless, why?_ She wondered. _ Surely they must know we are here to offer them an alliance… _

They walked into the inn, and were met by the Grand Enchanter, who looked tired and haggard. She asked Kiana why she was there, as though the woman had never met them before. Everyone looked at each other in concern.

“Is this some sort of game, Grand Enchanter? We met in Val Royeaux the last week, and you invited us here to talk about a potential alliance with the mages.” Kiana spoke, completely baffled.

“You must be mistaken, I haven’t been to Val Royeaux for weeks.” She went on to add that she was no longer in a position to negotiate, as she was indentured - as were the rest of the mages - to a magister of the Tevinter Imperium.

They all bristled. “You’ve made a mistake!” Kiana exclaimed in horror. There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of her group. 

The Grand Enchanter bowed her head and spoke about the mage troubles, how they feared the templars would attack and slaughter them, and how they had no other option. 

_You had us!_ She screamed in her mind. _You should have come to us!_

But as the elder woman spoke further, it became clear to her that they had chosen this option immediately after the explosion of the Conclave… before the Inquisition had even been formed. She exchanged a wary glance with Cassandra - how was this possible?

Soon, there was a commotion in the inn, and a man with a peaked cowl had entered, surrounded by people she assumed were servants. _This must be the magister,_ she thought, keeping her face blank. Something about his demeanor raised her shackles.

She spoke nothing of her concerns, and she wore a polite countenance. She asked to negotiate with him about the mages, and they’d sat down. It was only when Kiana began the conversation with the magister that Fiona had truly understood what the man was going to do to the mages in her charge. The former grand enchanter had been horrified, but had been reminded by the Tevinter magister that she had already placed the mages in his care. Kiana was incensed, but held her tongue. She didn't want to give the man any reaction he could use against her. 

She was about to ask the magister what he wanted in exchange for help from the mages in his care when a young man walked towards their table, stumbling at the last moment. She jumped out of her chair, in concern, offering him support, during which she felt him slip a note into her hand. The magister - Alexius - had introduced the pleasant-looking stranger as his son, Felix, and had left soon after with his son and Fiona, promising to call on her at a later time to continue their conversation.

Once they had left, she slipped into a quiet, dark corner and unfolded the note. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.” She passed the note to her companions. They had all been distrustful, suspecting a trap, but in the end they’d decided to go.

They made their way towards the Chantry. She stopped to talk to one of the Tranquil, who mentioned how Alexius disliked his kind. When he mentioned he was fearful for his fate, and that of his brethren, she’d immediately directed him to gather as many of the Tranquil as he could, and head to the nearest Inquisition camp. 

“Good call, Blades. The magister doesn’t exactly ooze kindness and understanding.” Varric said approvingly.

They entered the Chantry to find a lone mage battling demons. He asked for their assistance, and they immediately got to work. Again, she could sense the same temporal distortion they’d experienced in the rift outside the village. She noted that the strange rifts only seemed to occur around or in the village, and decided to ask this strange mage about it once she’d closed the rift.

Soon, the rift had been closed, and the mage introduced himself. “My name is Dorian Pavus, and I am here to tell you you are in grave danger.” he said. She looked at him questioningly,

He went on to state that the magister was using time magic to alter the events of the past, and explained that was how the man had arrived in Redcliffe before the Inquisition had. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Cassandra. 

_This explains a lot, she thought. But time magic? That seems so… impossible._

“I’d like some proof about this whole time magic thing you’re talking about.” She said.

“I helped him create it. When we parted ways, it was still entirely conceptual. Alexius must have used my research to turn it into more than just theory. You must have noticed the strange rifts, with their temporal distortions? That’s a side effect of the time spell he’s cast over the village. The magic he’s using is wildly unstable and it’s unravelling the world.”

Felix joined them towards the end of Dorian’s speech, and had added that his father was working with a group of Tevinter supremacists, the Venatori.

“And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done to get you.”

She was amazed that the son was turning on the father. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because the man you met is not my father. My father would never do such a thing. I’m worried about him, and want to help him.”

Something about his filial devotion to his father touched her. “Thank you. For helping us.”

The young man had nodded, and taken his leave. Dorian had left them with another warning.

Their journey back to Haven had been filled with tension and worry. If they had been right about time magic - and she was fairly sure they were - then they had very little time to act. The fact that the mages were now indentured to a Tevinter magistrate wasn’t good.

She’d made up her mind about who first to approach for help by the time they reached Haven.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were in the war room in the middle of a heated argument, and Kiana was gripping to the last strands of her patience.

 _Why_ was the Commander being so stubborn?

Despite everyone - well, almost everyone - agreeing that the mages were the priority, the man still insisted on approaching the templars first.

“Redcliffe Castle has stood against thousands of invasions. There is no way we can get in without all being slaughtered!”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the headache that lurked beneath. “We cannot leave the mages tied to a Tevinter supremacist! Is there some drain, some underground cave, something else we can use?”

Leliana spoke up. “There is a way. A tunnel used as an escape route by the royal family. We can get a few of our men into the castle through that.”

“They will be caught, Leliana. I will not send our men to certain death.” Cullen growled.

“Not if there was a distraction.” The spymaster gave her a shrewd glance, and she immediately understood.

“If I accepted his invitation and went to meet him, Alexius and his men will be too focused on me. The men can infiltrate the castle without being caught.”

Cullen began to waver as he saw the merits of the plan. “Herald, I cannot in all good conscience ask you to offer yourself up as bait… “

She patted his gauntleted arm kindly. “Don’t worry yourself, Commander. I’ll be perfectly fine. I won’t go alone...” She trailed off as the doors were flung open, and Dorian walked in, as though he found interrupting war room meetings perfectly natural. “You won’t be alone, my dear. If you want your men to get through the castle safely, you’re going to need my help.”

It was decided that Dorian would accompany their men, as he had already scouted out the underground trail and knew it well. Cassandra had insisted on accompanying her when she went to meet with Alexius, and she decided to take Varric along as well; he didn’t give off a threatening vibe and would not draw suspicion. Plus, she suspected that Sera would be very uncomfortable being around all that magic.

Turning to Josephine, she spoke confidently. “Send word to the magister that I would be glad to meet him.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And mages wonder why people fear them._

_It had all gone terribly wrong._

They had started so well. They had met Alexius, and she’d confidently told him she was going to walk out with the mages offering nothing in exchange. The man had understood that she’d seen through his deception, and had asked his men to attack her; only, of course, they’d all been disabled by Inquisition forces.

Dorian had confronted him, and both he and Felix had beseeched Alexius to stop his madness. The magister had refused, had flung insults at her - she was a little miffed at being called a mistake, but to be fair anyone would have - and gone off on a rant about some Elder One. She’d failed to get any information about that, because he had used his amulet to cast a spell.

Luckily for her, Dorian had cried out, stepped in front of her and countered it before she could react. Not that it had done much; they’d been sucked into a portal, and ended up in the worst dungeon she’d ever had the unfortunate luck to visit.

Their arrival had shaken up the guards, who’d attacked them. They managed to kill them without too much effort - and pushed on. She mentioned how strange it was that they were now in the dungeon when they had been in the great hall.

“Ah! It’s not just a question of _where_ , but _when_!” Dorian exclaimed happily. She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. ‘You’re happy that we’re stuck here in Maker-knows which year? Please tell me you have a plan to get us back.”

“Alexius used the same amulet I’d been working on. If we can get to him, and get it back, I think I can unravel the spell and send us back to our own time.”

They trudged on through the foul-smelling water in the dungeon, searching for a way out. They stumbled into a room, where they could hear a familiar voice praying.

“Cassandra!” She gasped, running over to the cell that held the Seeker. She was horrified when she saw the condition of the woman. Her eyes and skin glowed sickly with a red taint. The Seeker shrunk back, refusing to believe she was real. It took several minutes for Dorian and her to persuade Cassandra that they were alive, and not ghosts.

Dorian explained what Alexius had done while she worked to free the Seeker. “What happened to you?” She asked.

“Red lyrium. After you fell, there was no defense against the Elder One. He assassinated Empress Celene, throwing Orlais into chaos. And when he finally went to war… the army he commanded was full of demons. We stood no chance against him.”

She swallowed hard, fear coating her throat. They needed to fix this, needed to get back.

“Are there others here?” The Seeker nodded.

They went hunting for the rest. There was horror everywhere; piles of dead bodies, red lyrium growing out of them. There were a few who were alive, but had been driven insane - she was sure she saw the mage who had greeted her at the entrance of the village stab himself to death.

Her friends fared no better. Vivienne was dead, her delicate features twisted grotesquely into a mask of horror. They’d found Sera - or what had remained of her. The Ambassador had been in a similar condition when they stumbled across her body in the dank waters of the dungeon. Varric had been alive, but only just; she’d broken him out of his cell as fast as she could.

They headed into the upper dungeon, where they’d found the Grand Enchanter, barely alive. The woman was nothing but a massive hunk of red lyrium with her head perched on top. From her, they’d gathered that they were a year in the future, that Leliana was somewhere in the castle, and according to his guards, Alexius never left the throne room.

They were about to leave, to hunt for Alexius, when her ears pricked up and she heard a soft sound coming from a cell in the far corner. She walked towards it, only to be struck with horror as she saw Solas.

He was sprawled out on the floor, weak, and it was clear he had been starving for a long time. He was gaunt, his skin stretched tight over his bones. He had the same sickly glow that indicated red lyrium poisoning. She rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.

“Solas. Oh, Solas, what have they done to you?” She cried out, tears sliding down her eyes, unaware of the curious look that Dorian was giving her. Nor did she see him subtly pushing back Varric and Cassandra.

The elf raised his hand weakly to her face and cradled her cheek. “Kiana. _Ma vhenan_. You are alive… “ She nodded, holding back sobs. “I am, and I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be okay.”

He gave her a soft smile, and tried to wipe away her tears. “I no longer worry, now that I have seen your face. I am blessed, for I do not die alone.” He spoke slowly, struggling to get the words out, his voice growing weaker with each word. “ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_.” His eyes glazed over, and his hand fell to the floor, limp. 

She let out a keen. “Solas, _no_!” 

She remained there for a few minutes, sobbing. Wiping away her tears, she looked at the man she felt a strange and inexplicable connection to. She didn’t understand her feelings for him, but she did not question them. All she knew was she cared for him, and he had cared for her.

And now he was dead.

When she rose, her eyes were lit with fury. She was no longer Kiana Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste; she was Kiana Trevelyan, Goddess of Vengeance. She swore revenge against Alexius, against this Elder One. She would make them pay. Her movements were precise, her gait calculated. She did not walk; she _hunted_.

The others sensed her mood and remained silent. They tracked down Leliana, and had freed her. The spymaster had been brusque and chided Dorian’s effort at conversation - it was clear by looking at her that she had been infected with the Blight. From the myriad incisions that adored her body, Kiana understood she’d been used as an experimental rabbit.

Her fury doubled.

Everything about this future was bleak. There were hardly any people still alive. Most of the mages had either been used as a blood sacrifice, or had been used to grow lyrium. She saw, and understood, the true cost of failure in _her_ world, _her_ time. She prayed that they could get back.

When they stepped out into the courtyard, she’d let out a gasp of horror. The Breach was _everywhere_! This Elder One must have torn the skies apart.

They made their way towards the throne room, dealing with demons and insane mages along the way. They’d come across a group of red templars, and she recognized Cullen; but he did not recognize her, having been entirely corrupted by the red lyrium. It had been with a heavy heart that she’d struck him down; the grief over the loss of a man brave and honorable gnawed at her.

“Don’t dwell on it, _amicus_. We shall stop this future.” Dorian had reassured her.

The door to the throne room was protected well, and could only be opened by five red lyrium runes. From the information they had gathered along the way, she realized that each of his assistants held a rune. She told the others, and one by one they hunted down the magister's mage assistants.

Armed with the runes, they made their way back to the throne room, and opened the door.

She noted with some surprise that Alexius was not taken aback by their arrival. He seemed… accepting. When he spoke, he told them that he knew she’d turn up at some time. He bemoaned the fact that she’d appeared now, when it was too late to change things.

“The Elder One comes for you, for me. He comes for us all.”

Leliana had snuck up to Felix - who was now a mindless walking corpse riddled with blight sickness - and had slit his throat in revenge for all she’d suffered. Kiana couldn’t blame her - the woman had suffered long and painfully. The action had incensed Alexius, and he attacked them.

The man was a powerful mage, she had to give him that. He repeatedly attacked them with a powerful mind blast, and they had to constantly be on the lookout for his spirit glyphs. She tasked Dorian with countering his more powerful spells, while she took to her daggers. Between her daggers, Varric and Leliana’s bows and Cassandra’s sword they were soon able to cut him down.

Dorian looked at the man sadly. “He wanted to die, didn’t he?” He looked up at her. “Can you believe there was a time I compared all other men to him?”

The roof thundered, and there was a slam at the door. “The Elder One! He knows you’re here! You must get back now!” Leliana exclaimed.

Dorian grabbed Alexius’ amulet. “I’ll need an hour or so to understand the spell.”

“You do not have that much time!” The spymaster roared. “You MUST get back and prevent this from happening!”

Varric and Cassandra exchanged a look, coming to an agreement. “Do as you must. We will hold them off.”

She cut them off. “I will not have you commit suicide!”

“Look at us. We’re already dead. Our only chance of being alive is if you go back in time and stop this future from ever taking place.” The Seeker spoke, her voice calm and firm.

She saw Varric and Cassandra walk towards the door, and took a step towards them. Dorian grabbed her hand. “If you move, we all die!”

“Work your spell, mage. You have as much time as I have arrows.” Leliana took guard in front of them.

Kiana could only watch in horror over the next few minutes as she saw Cassandra and Varric die, torn apart by demons. She watched helplessly as demons poured into the throne room, as Leliana let loose arrow after arrow, buying them time. She nearly moved away from Dorian as she watched Leliana fall, as she was lifted up by a terror demon, as it sank its claws deeply into her abdomen…

“Quickly! Step through the rift!” Dorian tugged at her arm, and she dived into the portal.

They landed in a heap where they began, surrounded by Inquisition forces… _and her friends._

She could have wept with happiness.

Their men captured Alexius, and she’d offered Felix a chance to join the Inquisition, which he’d gracefully declined. “I don’t have much time left, your Worship… and I’d like to spend the time I have with those I care about.” He hesitated. “It is asking a lot, but could you find a measure of leniency for my father? Everything he did, he did for me.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

He nodded, satisfied, and left.

There was another surprise as King Alistair walked in - she gathered that the Arl must have complained to him about being thrown out. The man gave a start as he recognized her, and she smiled back at him.

Varric noted the exchange and nudged her with his elbow. “You have to tell me how you know the King of Ferelden, Blades, I’m sure that’s got to be a hell of a story.”

The King banished the mages from his lands, and she hadn’t been surprised. They had broken several rules after all, and he was looking out for his people. She’d quickly stepped up and offered the mages an alliance with the Inquisition, which Fiona had gratefully agreed to.

She knew she’d draw the ire of some of her companions for that; Cassandra was already glowering at her, but Varric seemed happy with her choice.

She broke off her conversation with Leliana as the King approached. The tall, red-haired man nodded amicably at Leliana, who stepped away to give them some privacy.

“I keep forgetting the two of you know each other,” Kiana mused. She looked up at him. “How are you, your Highness?” 

“Relieved that this matter with the mages has been sorted out.” He grinned, a boyish charm coming over his face. “So, the Herald of Andraste, huh? Must be quite a change.” He teased.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s immensely frustrating.” Her voice softened. “How’s Elissa?”

A look of tenderness fell over him. “She is well. She’s still on the road, still searching.”

“You miss her.”

“Incredibly. She is the love of my life.” He looked at her. “You should visit, if you have the time. Edward asks after you often.”

A picture of the chubby, dark haired boy flashed into her mind. She smiled. “As soon as I have time.” She took a step close, her eyes darkening with worry. “There are dangerous times ahead, Alistair. Be careful, and be safe.” 

He nodded, sensing her concern. “Let me know if you need help. Politics may prevent me from directly helping the Inquisition, but I’ll do what I can here and there.”

“Thanks, Alistair.” With that, the King of Ferelden took his leave, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Images of the terrible future came rushing back. She swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise up her throat. No one understood why she insisted on riding back to Haven in her injured state, but no one had been able to stop her.

She needed to see him alive and well, needed to know he was safe. Till then, she couldn’t relax, couldn’t breathe easy. It had been a rough ride back, and every muscle in her body had ached, but she had pressed on. They arrived two days later in the middle of the night, but a group of people were waiting for them. No doubt one of Leliana’s people had kept her apprised of their movements.

She handed the reins of her horse to someone, and moved towards his room. She noted with disappointment that he seemed to be asleep; still, the urge to check on him was too great. She slowly opened his door and tiptoed in, trying not to disturb him. 

He was lying in bed, the firelight flickering over his skin. She noted with relief the healthy tint to his skin. She stood there for several minutes unmoving, before going to her room.

She failed to see his eyes follow her as she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of left the whole Kiana-knows-Alistair thing deliberately vague because that story will come later. I'm kind of keeping Kiana's past hidden for the moment. And yes, I know Grey Wardens have a hard time having children, but _pfffft_. Cousland goes hunting for a cure for the Calling so she can spend more time with her love and their child.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas gets Kiana to come out of her shell after Redcliffe.

She had been withdrawn and silent ever since she had returned from Redcliffe, Solas noted with some worry. There was clearly something on her mind. _Something_ had happened at Redcliffe, and she wasn’t talking to anyone about it - even though Leliana and Cullen both pressed her for details that they could use.

He found her on her favorite spot, the isolated mountain that overlooked Haven. She was leaning against the tree, her eyes distant. He knew she heard him approach, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

“Are you alright, Kiana?”

She shifted slightly. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? We achieved our goal - the mages are on our side, we’ve stopped the Tevinter magistrate. We can now go ahead and close the Breach.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He walked over and stood in front of her. “I asked about _you_.”

She gazed at him, the concern in his eyes her undoing. “Solas… I…” She let out a heavy breath. “No. No, I’m not okay. What happened in Redcliffe… the magister was using _time magic_ , Solas! Time magic! Not just what we saw in the rifts at Redcliffe. He sent Dorian and me to the future… I think he wanted to remove my existence from time itself.

“He sent you to the future? Are you sure?” 

She gave him a wry look. “Mage here, remember? I think I’d know if it was real or not." 

“You’re right, of course. I apologize. It just seems so unbelievable!” 

“Unbelievably dangerous. You heard what Dorian said about tampering with the fabric of time.” Her eyes held a faraway look. 

“You said he wanted to remove your existence? But why?” 

She raised her hand bearing the Anchor. “Because of this. I wasn’t meant to have it, apparently. Big surprise there, huh? I always wondered how I ended up with it…” She sighed, and continued, “Alexius mentioned something about me cheating the ‘Elder One’ out of what was his, and he was referring to the Anchor. I suppose by removing me from the Temple of Sacred Ashes…” 

“... you would not have prevented this Elder One from taking the Anchor for himself.” Solas finished. 

She nodded. “Exactly.” 

“What did you see in the future?” 

She swallowed thickly, the gory memories flooding her mind. “It was… _terrible_. The Breach… it was _everywhere_. There were very few people alive… everyone had either been sacrificed to demons, or had been used to grow red lyrium. The Venatori… they were growing the red lyrium _in people_. Innocent people, Solas! It was… “ She looked at him, her eyes haunted. “Cassandra, Varric, Sera, _you_ … all the people I knew had been infected with red lyrium. You were all dying. Cullen… Cullen had been turned into a red lyrium monster… a behemoth of sorts. I had… I had to kill him…” She shuddered. “I had no choice…” 

He wanted desperately to reach out and pull her into his arms, to wipe the memory from her mind so that she would never again be troubled by it. But he knew he could not, and noted sadly once again that this would be the beginning of the many nightmares that she would suffer. Still, he wanted to offer her some support, and so he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

_It is all my doing_. The guilt washed over him again. 

“It has not yet come to pass, _da’len_. The future you saw need never happen - indeed, it will not happen, not now, when you know the price of failure.” 

She nodded miserably. “It’s what I keep telling myself too. I just can’t get those damn images out of my head.” 

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It will take some time, _da’len_. I could make you a potion that would help you sleep better in the meantime, if you’d like.” 

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the rough bark of the tree. “Maybe for a day or two. There was a messenger from this mercenary company - Bull’s Chargers, I think they were called? - and I need to leave for the Storm Coast in a few days. I can’t afford to lose focus. Not now.” 

He nodded, making a mental note to check with Adan for the necessary herbs. “You should talk to the others about this. Everyone has been very concerned about you, _da’len_. Leliana and Cullen can use your visions to protect themselves, protect you, everyone. You are not in this alone, Kiana. We are all here with you, to help you. Remember that. You do not face this Elder One by yourself.” 

She gave him a small smile at that. “I suppose Leliana sent you to hound me?” 

He shook his head. “I was worried about you, _vhera_.” 

She quirked an eyebrow. _Lioness? Why would he call her that?_ “What does that mean?” 

He gave her a slightly abashed smile. “Lioness. The way you move, the way you fight… even the way you think… they all remind me of the intelligent, dangerous predator.” 

She turned a soft shade of pink and looked away. _Why do I turn into such a fool around him?_ “I don’t think I can claim that, Solas. One has to only take a look at our Commander to know who the real lion is.” She grinned at him. “Besides, I believe Varric’s already bestowed me with a nickname.” 

“Ah yes, _Blades_. Quite original, especially for such a renowned author.” 

She chuckled, and swatted his arm. “Be nice! Blades sounds very dangerous and deadly, so I approve. Besides, he said it was temporary. I’m curious to see what he’ll come up with next.” 

“That is something to look forward to, I suppose. When does he arrive?” 

“Leliana said the rest of the party would be here by tomorrow. The mages will arrive in a few day’s time. Poor Josephine has been going crazy trying to find accommodations for everyone. I’m sure it isn’t helped by the fact that the Rusted Iron Lady has been griping constantly to her about my allying with the mages.” 

He chuckled at how her nose wrinkled in distaste when referring to Vivienne. Smoothly, he pressed on. “Why did you return so quickly? It would have been easier on you - and your wounds - if you had returned with the others.” 

She fidgeted a little, and refused to meet his eyes. “I needed to get out of there. It just… everything felt so _real_. I just needed to get away from it.” 

He nodded understandingly, but he knew she was lying. What she said made sense, but it wasn’t the truth… for it did not explain why she came into his room in the middle of the night, and stood there silently. She hadn’t mentioned it to him the next day, and she didn’t bring it up now… and that interested him. 

_What was she hiding from him?_

This raven haired woman was full of secrets. He’d overheard the Spymaster gripe to Cassandra that Kiana seemed to have more secrets than she did. It frustrated him, not knowing, but it drew him to her, for was he not a man full of secrets himself? 

Secrets he could never share. 

He returned to the present when she left out a soft huff. “I suppose I should start writing out those reports.” 

“That would be a good idea, yes.” 

She pushed herself off the tree. “Are you coming?” 

“In some time. The view from here is beautiful.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, before shrugging. “I’ll see you later, then.” 

“Later,” he agreed, and watched her march back determinedly towards the village. He sighed. She was beautiful, and kind-hearted, and compassionate, and the failure of his plans would put her in danger a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. And he was powerless to stop it from happening. 

_If she fails… if she dies…_ The thoughts buzzed unpleasantly in his head. _It would be devastating._

For the world, of course. Not for him. For all her beauty, all her merits… he could not afford to have a distraction. 

He could almost hear Mythal chuckling at his train of thought. Sighing, he returned to his village, intending to keep a polite distance from Kiana, knowing that he would fail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I always wondered why noone spoke about the future Redcliffe. I mean, you'd think all the terrible things that happened there would be discussed about for a while, but everyone's like "oh yeah, time magic, whatevs" and it really bugs me. So of course I had to write about it for my own satisfaction.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks, all day, err'day.

It was difficult to feel the burden of saving the world on her shoulders when the people around her wouldn’t let her wallow in the horrific visions she’d seen at the future Redcliffe.

“I saw you _die_ , Leliana!”

“Indeed. And yet here I am, just as you are.”

Kiana lowered her eyes. “You were incredibly brave. You bought Dorian enough time for him to send us to the present.”

“One life for the chance to save the world? I always did enjoy a good bargain.”

“Don’t dismiss it so lightly, Spymaster.” She chided.

“I do not. Sometimes sacrifice is necessary, Herald, and I do not fear my duty. It should not come as a surprise to you.”

She surprised the steely-eyed redhead with a fierce embrace. “I am happy to see you safe.” Leliana was momentarily taken aback, before softening and returning the hug. “Likewise, Kiana.” They pulled back, each smiling at the other. “So, the Herald has a soft side.” Leliana teased. 

She laughed. “And now that you’ve discovered my deep dark secret, I must kill you!”

Leaving the Spymaster behind, she sought out Cullen, stilling momentarily outside his door. She had a flashback to the behemoth that so viciously attacked her, how it bore the Commander’s face, his features twisted into a mask of evil. She remembered how she had tried to refrain from killing him at first, how she’d had no choice but to plunge her daggers into his chest. How he’d roared in pain and fury before he died. She shuddered, not noticing that the door had opened and Cullen stood in the doorway, watching her.

Cullen had been on his way to inspect the new recruits when he’d nearly run into Kiana by the doorway. He apologized, but hadn’t received a response. When he’d looked at her, he’d found the woman standing outside with a blank face and a glassy-eyed stare, and he feared the worst.

_Had she been possessed? According to her reports, she had encountered some disturbing magic. It would have been easy enough for a demon to slip through…_

“Kiana?” He called out tentatively. “Kiana!” He called out more urgently, worried when she did not respond. He hesitated, debating over what to do next. Was she only lost in thought, or was she possessed? He couldn’t tell, but…

She let out a soft whimper, and that decided it for him. Aware that it might cause her to really hate him, he unleashed a Holy Smite on her, knowing that it would draw out any demon in her.

She gave a horrified cry and fell to the floor, and he remembered too late that she’d never experienced a Templar’s abilities. _Maker’s breath, what have I done?_

_Andraste’s dimpled ass, it hurts._ Kiana had never experienced anything like this. It felt like the very essence of her was being pulled out of her. She tried to cast a healing spell over herself, but her mana had been significantly drained. She’d never felt so helpless, so… disabled. It seemed like all she could do was gasp for air. It took her a minute to realize someone had wrapped an arm around her and was lifting her to her feet. She heard them curse softly, then felt herself being lifted.

She began to protest, when she saw the face of the person who was carrying her.

_Cullen._

She immediately understood. For some reason, the Commander had hit her with a Templar attack.

_This must have been what all of them must have felt like_. For a moment it was like she was back in the Planasene Forest, desperately herding the young women in her charge away from the band of Templars that hounded them. She could almost hear their laughing jeers, their threats, their promises that they would have the women serving them by the end of the day… 

Cullen noted with not a small amount of concern that she was shivering in his arms. He placed her gently in the corner, and, pulling off his coat, wrapped it around her. That seemed to bring some awareness to her.

“Why?” She asked him, the accusation in her eyes causing him to wince. He rubbed the back of his neck out of sheer nervousness, a habit he’d tried and failed to break several times.

“Maker’s breath Kiana, I am truly sorry. I saw you outside my door, and I called out to you several times, but you didn’t respond at all. You were just… blank. I… jumped to conclusions and feared the worst, feared that you may have been possessed, so I… smote you, hoping that it would draw the demon out.”

He saw the color slowly return to her face with some relief. “Truly, I am sorry. I swear I did not mean it maliciously, Kiana.”

“Why would you assume I was possessed? Have you seen me cavorting with demons? Or practicing blood magic? What were you thinking, for shit’s sake?” She was furious, and she wanted to scream at him, but it came out as a loud, harsh whisper instead, which made her angrier.

He winced again. “I just finished reading your report. I thought… you’ve been around some very disturbing magic, encountered demons in the future… I just thought… it was wrong of me. I’m so sorry.”

“No shit! No wonder mages fear and loathe Templars. If you keep abusing them like that, why wouldn’t they?” Feeling more like herself, she pushed his coat away and got to her feet. “I was only _distracted_ , Cullen. Trust me, you would have been too, had you seen the terrible things I’ve seen.”

She pushed him away, and marched out of the door, striding past Cassandra who was approaching Cullen’s office. “Herald, someone told me you collapsed, are you- …” Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the angry expression on Kiana’s face as the woman brushed past her without a word. “I guess you’re okay,” she muttered, and entered the Commander’s office.

“I’m assuming you’re responsible for the Herald’s current mood, Cullen?” She asked wryly.

“Maker’s breath, Cassandra, I swear, I did not mean to do it deliberately!” 

She furrowed her brow. “What did you do, Cullen?”

“The woman was just standing and staring blankly into space outside my door! I tried calling out to her several times, she didn’t hear or acknowledge me! I thought… I thought she might have been possessed… “

The Seeker let out a groan. “Merciful Andraste, Cullen, tell me you did not just use a templar attack on Kiana.”

He had the presence of mind to look chastised. “A Holy Smite. I promise you Cassandra, it didn’t strike me that she’d never been exposed to Templar abilities… “

She swore. “Maker, I hadn’t thought of that. Cullen, _what_ is wrong with you! You usually possess good judgement but around Kiana it seems to fall to pieces.”

The Commander turned red. “It was an honest mistake, Seeker.’

“A mistake? Did you try tapping her shoulder? Shaking her?”

“I thought she was possessed, Cassandra! You know what touching someone possessed does!”

She gave him a look of sympathy, and her tone softened. “I know you haven’t had the best experiences with mages, Cullen, but surely you know that not all of them were bad. You’ve met the Champion of Kirkwall, and she was a mage. You never speak ill of her. It seems to me that you are projecting all your fears about mages onto Kiana - who doesn’t deserve it. I’ve fought beside her, and I can in all honesty tell you that the woman only uses her magic to protect. I would have fallen many times had it not been for her casting a barrier over me - even though at times she had needed it more. She might be a mage, but she has control over her abilities the likes of which I have never seen in another mage.”

He looked at the ground, shamefacedly. “She’s never going to forgive me, is she?”

Cassandra shrugged. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to like Templars, which is strange, because, by her own admission, she hadn’t encountered many when growing up,” she mused. “Give it time. I can talk to her, if you’d like.”

“Would you, please?” He didn’t want Kiana to walk around hating him. He flushed at the thought, and the Seeker smirked. She suspected that the man had a crush on the fiery rogue-mage, which was why he seemed to place his foot firmly in his mouth when it came to the woman.

“With your leave, Commander.” Giving him another smirk, she left, intent on pursuing Kiana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Why Cullen_
> 
> _Cullen no_
> 
> I'd like to think Cullen is highly suspicious of a mage Inquisitor who returns with tales from future Redcliffe. He's a good guy, but I'm sure all that magic would have him on edge.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations.

“The man had the audacity to claim that he thought I was possessed! Possessed! He tried to justify smiting me because he thought that my being around the - and I quote him here - ‘dangerous magics and demons of the future’ would have caused me to become possessed!” she ranted to Solas.

“Calm down, _da’len_. It seems most uncharacteristic of the Commander.” Solas replied reassuringly, even though a part of him wanted to inflict a small measure of pain on the man. From what he had seen in the Fade, the abilities the Templars used to rein in mages were most unpleasant, and the thought of her being at the receiving end of them… 

_Get a grip on yourself, old wolf. She can handle herself._

“Are you sure he meant it maliciously?”

She sighed. “According to him, I was standing outside the door of his office staring blankly into the air, and did not respond to his calls.” She furrowed her brow. “I suppose it’s possible. I had a flashback… to the Cullen of the future Redcliffe…,” She trailed off. “Sod it all, I suppose the man had a point. But he didn’t have to smite me!”

“Herald? A word?”

They both turned to see Cassandra standing at the doorway. “Of course, Seeker.” Kiana replied. “But if you’re going to defend Cullen I’m going to warn you I’m not in a very understanding mood.”

Solas hid a smile at that. She was already halfway there, even if she wasn’t aware of it.

“Please, Kiana. Hear me out.” 

“Fine!” She huffed. She walked over to Cassandra, and the Seeker drew her away from the village, towards and beyond old apothecary Taigen’s shack, to a small, desolate shrine hidden among the trees.

She looked at Cassandra in puzzlement. “Why are we here?”

The Seeker turned to face her. “I’m not making any excuses for the Commander, Kiana. I break a confidence in telling you what I’m about to tell you, but… it is important that you know. Perhaps then you might understand him a little better.”

Kiana suspected she knew where this conversation was headed. She had heard, from the Hero of Ferelden herself, the horrors of the Circle Tower - Kinloch Hold. But she was curious to hear what the Seeker had to say about the matter.

“You must know that the Commander served at the Circle Tower, do you not? The Broken Tower, most call it, for the atrocities committed there.”

“I have heard of what happened there. A Senior Enchanter was possessed and took over the tower.” she said, non-committedly.

“Indeed. The man behind it all was Senior Enchanter Uldred. From what I have heard, he was not well-liked, but had good instincts to root out blood mages. After his death, it was discovered that he had been encouraging mages to break away from the Chantry. He was the one who introduced those mages to blood magic, and deflected suspicion from himself by betraying those he had ‘helped’. It was a terrible time for everyone - mages, templars, the Chantry. And in the middle of a Blight!” She let out a deep sigh. “But that is not what I wished to talk to you about.”

“The abomination took over the Tower, and had been turning the other mages there into abominations. Not that the mages were innocent - some of them were blood mages who willingly aided the abomination Uldred. The templars in the Tower were all captured, and they were forced into possession, tortured, or killed.

You know how it ended; with the Hero’s help, the abomination was killed, the few surviving mages rescued, the Tower freed. A reasonably happy ending, indeed.

For Cullen, there was no happy ending. Imagine, if you can; he was tortured daily, the blood mages there trying to force him into possession. Constantly surrounded and taunted by demons. Watching his fellow templars - his friends - being dragged off, one by one, to their deaths; to hear their screams of agony. How can a man live through that and not be irrevocably affected by it? Still, he wanted to serve, and they sent him to Kirkwall. Again, he was faced with blood mages; saw the havoc they inflicted. But it was at Kirkwall he began to understand the plight of mages, Kiana. At the final battle, he sided with the Champion, not his Knight-Commander.

The man might have unfairly transferred his fear of mages onto you. He looks at you, and in you he sees all the mages who broke away from their Circles, who turned to blood magic whether out of fear, or for more power. It is not right, no. But can you truly blame him?”

She was silent. She’d heard Warden Elissa talk about the Tower, had heard her mention Cullen, but it seemed as though Elissa had been unaware of how much the man had suffered. “Did you hear about this from Cullen?”

“Some of it from Cullen himself, yes, one night when the man had had too much to drink. He swore me to secrecy the next morning; I betray his confidence by telling you. The Commander likes you, Kiana; give him time, and he’ll stop being such an ass.”

She chewed her lip as she mulled over what Cassandra had said, and what Cullen had done to her. _The man hadn’t meant to be malicious. And he was truly apologetic. And I suppose I must have looked rather out of it for him to jump straight to that conclusion. More importantly though, what would happen if I am caught in the crossfire between an errant templar and one of our mages? I’ve been incredibly lucky so far… with all the mages I’ve helped, all the times I’ve been chased by the templars… it’s almost miraculous that none of them stuck me. I can’t afford to be unprepared._

She huffed. “I suppose I understand. I’ll talk to him, Cassandra.” She ran her hands through her hair as a gust of wind tangled her hair. “What he did scared me. I haven’t ever experienced any of your abilities before. But it strikes me that I cannot afford to be defenseless against templar attacks. Will you teach me how to counter them, as a mage?”

“You’re asking me to teach you the ways to evade abilities effectively designed to bring you down should you become possessed? Are you serious?” Cassandra stared at her.

“Look, we’re going to be in quite a few battles, Seeker. What would happen if I were to accidentally get caught up in the crossfire between one of our mages, and a less-than-friendly templar? In the middle of a fight?”

Cassandra frowned. “I did not think of that.” She eyed Kiana shrewdly. “I suggest you ask Cullen for help. He will be better suited to help you. Once you’ve managed to counter all his attacks, come to me, and I will teach you what I can.”

Kiana grinned. “I bet you’ll still keep a few tricks up your sleeve.”

The Seeker gave her a small smile. “Of course.”

“Before you ask, do not worry - what has been said in confidence shall remain as such. I won’t tell anyone about it.”

“Thank you, Kiana. For understanding, and for your secrecy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my brain took a detour. Whoops. Next chapter goes back on track?
> 
> Cullen's an ass, but he's _my_ ass. And he makes a great foil for Solas. #teamIwantthembothformyInquisitor #whyyougottamakemechoosebioware


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas tries to uncover what happened at Redcliffe.

A week later, Kiana still hadn’t gotten around to approaching Cullen. One, she was busy getting organized for the trip to the Storm Coast - which now involved more than just meeting the Bull’s Chargers, because they’d received word from Scout Harding about Grey Warden sightings through the region and Blackwall insisted on accompanying her to investigate them. And two, because he had made no move to approach her. 

_Why do I have to make the first move? He was the one who struck me!_ She thought mutinously, then sighed. The past week had been stressful for everyone. Once the rest of her companions had returned from Redcliffe, they’d submitted their reports, and the four of them had had more than a few meetings with the advisors about the events that had taken place there. They’d had to find people to secure the cells in the dungeons to house Alexius - a few of the Chantry sisters had taken to sleeping in the empty cells, so they’d had had to find new quarters for them.

The influx of mages had created not just housing issues and food issues, but also temper issues. For the first time it was clear to everyone how sheltered the mages had been; they were incapable of doing things for themselves, or taking any decisions. On more than one occasion she’d been called in to separate an argument between a templar and a mage.

It was clear Haven wasn’t big enough for the lot of them. The number of people who milled around drove her crazy. She had no privacy at all, with someone or the other constantly approaching her to either fawn over her, try to sneak a peek at the Anchor, or whine about some trivial matter or another.

At the end of her rope, she had called in a war room meeting. Now she faced Cullen, mutinous thoughts running through her mind as he distinctly avoided looking at her.

“Any suggestion, Commander?” If he wasn’t going to look at her, she would _make_ him.

He flushed. “We are very close to closing the Breach. Is it really necessary to travel to the Storm Coast? Do we even need these mercenaries? We have the aid of the mages.”

She let out an annoyed huff. “We’re not going just to recruit the Chargers. They’ve been sightings of Grey Wardens in the region, too. Closing the Breach is of utmost importance, of course, but we can’t afford to forget the threat of this ‘Elder One.’ If there is a demon army being raised, we could use their help.”

Leliana interjected. “Plus, the mages need time to prepare. I’ve spoken with Grand Enchanter Fiona and she says that it will take some time for the mages to get acclimatized with the magic in the Breach. If they are to power the Anchor enough to close the Breach, they need to become familiar with it.”

The Commander gave a defeated sigh. “Very well. How long will this excursion take? The sooner we close the Breach, the better.”

“A week, ten days at the most,” Kiana said. “We’re going in, recruiting the Chargers, scouting for the Grey Wardens, and then we’re back.”

“Why can’t your men scout for the Grey Wardens, Leliana?” Cullen wondered.

She exchanged a look with the spymaster, who spoke calmly. “My people haven’t had much success scouting the region. There’s a mercenary group operating in the region who have been constantly attacking them. I mentioned this to Kiana, and she’s agreed to look into the matter.”

“Hunt down the mercenaries you mean,” he growled. “Sending the Herald into a fray just as we have a real chance at closing the Breach is insanity! What if she gets hurt? Or worse?”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “This is foolish, Kiana. Chase the bandits _after_ the Breach is closed, if you must. You can’t afford to endanger yourself.”

“I’m not saying you’re stupid enough to get yourself killed” Cassandra added as Kiana was about to object, “but what if you get hurt? You’ll have to heal before you can travel back to Haven, wasting time. There’s a lot of work to be done, and we’re not saying it should never be done. All we’re saying is that closing the Breach is the biggest priority.”

Kiana sulked. “Fine. How about this - four days in the Storm Coast, recruit the Chargers only and get back to Haven? The mages will have time to do what they need to do, I won’t put myself in reckless danger, and I can get away from people constantly trying to whine to me.”

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed. “No mercenaries?”

Kiana shrugged. “I won’t deliberately seek them out, but if _they_ seek _me_ out I’m not making any promises.”

Cassandra let out an annoyed grunt. “Fine. But I’ll be accompanying you, so don’t think you can get up to any funny business.”

_Drat. She’s onto me._ Kiana felt her lips twitch in amusement. “Touche, Seeker.” She looked around the council. “Is there anything else to discuss?”

“I wish you’d rethink your stance on going to the Storm Coast.” The Commander muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “Well then. I’m going to talk to Dorian and Sera to see if they’re interested. Varric can’t come - something about hunting down a book with his name that he didn’t write? I don’t know, all I know is he was pretty annoyed by it.”

She left her advisors, still feeling a little pouty, but resigned herself to the compromise. It had been wishful thinking on her part, and she knew it. Still, four days away from the too-crowded village would be a welcome respite.

She managed to track down Dorian to her room. She must have looked surprised, because he let out a chuckle. “Calm down, Kiana, I don’t have any dishonorable intentions. You seem to have amassed all the books available in the village, and I wanted to browse through them.” She relaxed at that. 

Despite the man being a Tevint, she recognized the goodness of his heart. He was charming, dashing, highly knowledgeable… and wounded, and full of secrets, like her. They got along very well, something that surprised her, and she felt like she could consider him as a friend. They’d had long conversations about the Chantry - again, it was a matter of surprise to see that their religious beliefs were alike - and about Tevinter, about magic. He had been only mildly surprised when she told him she was a mage, saying that he had suspected as much after feeling her magic brush over him once or twice during their quest to recruit the mages. He had been more impressed at how she managed her magic, and they had decided to each teach the other new spells. The prospect of that had excited her, and she had wondered if she could ask the same of Solas.

The thought of the elven mage caused a tiny furrow on her forehead, something that Dorian picked up on. “Did you want something from me?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. I’m planning to head over to the Storm Coast to recruit a band of mercenaries. Are you interested in coming along?”

“You’re going all the way there to recruit mercs? Surely they can come to you, _amicus_. Or does this sudden trip have something to do with the two mages who snuck into your room last night to _examine the Anchor_ , as they put it?”

She let out a groan. “How the guards missed them I’ll never know.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “You’ve deciphered my carefully-laid plans, Tevint. Whatever shall I do now?”

“Persuade me to join you, of course. Maybe with a bottle of the Antivan wine Josephine manages to stock in her chambers, and a promise of company during the opening of said bottle?”

She laughed. “You’re incorrigible. But fine, yes, you shall have both.”

“Excellent! Now, I must be on my way to pack.” He headed for the doorway.

“Dorian?” She called after him as he was exiting. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “You don’t have to persuade me to give you company, you know. You’re my friend. I hope you know that.” Something flickered over his face for a moment, and was banished by one of his charming smiles. “Of course, _amicus_. Everyone wants to be my friend!” With that, he left.

She decided to go to the Tavern, thinking to talk to Sera and grab a meal in the process. She had just shut the door of her room, and was in the middle of locking it when a shadow fell over her. Startled, she spun around to find Solas observing her, a carefully neutral expression on his face. 

“Solas! You startled me.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. “I thought you were one of those _dreadfully_ inquisitive mages.”

His lips curled into a small, mocking smile. “I am a ‘dreadfully inquisitive mage’, Herald.”

She shifted uncomfortably. She hated when he called her by her title; it made her feel less of a person, especially coming from him. _Let’s not get into that again._ She refused to think about why it bothered her so much.

She peeked at him from under her lashes, trying to suss his mood. She had been avoiding him for the most part since their conversation upon her return from Redcliffe, spending only the barest minimum of time with him, and she knew he was far too intelligent to not notice. She felt extremely guilty, but her feelings for him were a jumbled mess, and she was trying in vain to keep them in check. There was a new urge in her to protect him, and in her mind, distancing herself from him would keep him the safest, for he would not be targeted by those who wished violence upon her.

Plus, she suspected he didn’t feel the same pricks of attraction towards her as she did for him, and that made her feel uncharacteristically depressed.

“You’re not one of them, Solas, and you know it.” She sighed. “I apologize if it seemed as though I was accusing you. I’ve been a little on edge lately, with all the lack of privacy.”

He tilted his head gracefully in acknowledgement. “I hear you are planning an excursion to the Storm Coast. I came to volunteer my services, if need be.”

She panicked, remembering what Leliana had said about hostile bandits in the region. “Oh, that. Yes, just for a few days. It’s only to recruit a mercenary company; they come highly recommended and seem a good addition to the Inquisition. You don’t have to bother yourself, Solas, Dorian’s already agreed to accompany me.” She stammered.

He narrowed his eyes as a flash of anger hit him, becoming concerned when she refused to look at him. He was well aware she had gone out of her way to avoid interacting with him. She no longer took her supper with him, opting instead to spend time with the Tevinter mage, which had made him seethe quietly with jealousy, especially as he noticed how she was free and easy around him. And now, it seemed, she did not want him to accompany her.

He knew _something_ had happened at Redcliffe, something during her quest to confront the magister and recruit the mages that had caused it. He’d tried to look into her dreams in the Fade for some clarity, but remembered too late about the potion he’d made for her. It baffled him, it annoyed him, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. _If you won’t talk to me, vhera, perhaps your friend will._

He nodded calmly, as though unfazed by her decision. “Of course, Herald. You have the right to decide who joins you, of course.” _Was that his imagination, or did he see hurt in her eyes?_ He spun and walked away, needing to get away from her before he did something rash. 

_The Tevint. I must talk to him,_ he thought. He found the mage in his quarters, in the middle of packing. Another jolt of jealousy struck him. “Dorian? Might I have a word?”

The mage didn’t seem surprised to see him, which surprised Solas. “Ahh, the elven apostate. I was wondering when you’d come to talk to me. Took longer than I expected, but here you are.” He put away his satchel and sat on the bed, waving a careless towards the only chair in the room. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you.” Solas took his seat, keeping a wary eye on the man. For a moment, the silence hung in the air between them. He hissed softly; now that he was with the man, he had no idea how to broach the topic.

“This is about what happened in Redcliffe, isn’t it? You want to know what Kiana saw in the future that has her avoiding you.” Dorian stated calmly, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Startled, he jerked his head towards the Tevint. _How did he know?_ “How did you know?”

Dorian made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not that hard to see, really. She goes out of her way to avoid you meeting you, or talking to you. She refuses to talk about the events that she had seen, only keeps to the topic of magic that we had experienced there. And she most _definitely_ will not talk about you, which is _very_ interesting, given her… reaction… to certain events.”

Solas leaned forward unconsciously. “What events? What happened?” _Did she find out who he really was? Did she know he was Fen’harel? Was that why she avoided him?_

Dorian gave him an appraising look. “Before I can tell you, I must ask - do you care for Kiana at all?” He asked solemnly, which seemed out of character for the constantly cheery mage. 

The question caused him to stiffen, and worry. _What do I say?_ He replied carefully, “I care for Kiana. She is a good-hearted, intelligent woman…” He was cut off by Dorian. “Yes, yes, she’s wonderful and lovely and charming, blah blah blah. But do you _care_ about her?”, the meaning in the question made clear by the look in his eye.

“That is personal” he replied stiffly.

“Interesting”, Dorian mused. “She gave the same reply to the same question. How utterly _boring_.”

“Dorian, I came here to learn more about what happened to Kiana. She is not behaving her usual self, and that worries me. If you intend to tell me, get along with it, or else stop wasting my time.” He spoke tautly.

The Tevint sobered. “You must have read all the reports, Solas, of all the things that we saw there. It was easier for me to get through them, not just because I was familiar with the magic that had sent us there in the first place, but also because I did not know any of the people there. But Kiana did. I can’t imagine how it felt for her, to see her friends, her associates either dead, or tortured, or converted into horrific beings.

Each time she recognized someone, she would falter and grieve. I felt her pile the guilt over herself, Solas - guilt that she’d failed them, guilt that she had done the wrong thing in confronting Alexius. I had to constantly keep reminding her that we needed to move forward to find a way back to our time.

She cried for everyone; for Josephine, for Sera, even Vivienne, although I know she doesn’t like the First Enchanter. But when she saw _you_ …” he trailed off.

Solas spoke softly. “What happened?”

“You were alive, but on the verge of death. She… she fell to pieces. You said something to her, and you died in her arms, and she _shattered_. She wept like her world had ended, Solas. It was unnerving. When she stopped, and she rose… she was different. Calm, but cold, filled with violence and vengeance and retribution. It helped us fight our way out of there, and helped us get back to our time.” Dorian concluded.

He reached out and grabbed Solas’ arm in a tight grip. “I don’t know what exactly is going on between the two of you, but it’s clear to me she harbors feelings for you. I’m not sure why you haven’t already jumped in for a chance with her, but whatever you choose to do I’d much rather she not get hurt.” He leaned back and smirked. “Seems to me she’s trying to protect you by keeping you safe and sound here in the village.”

_Of course! That made sense_. His heart filled with hope as he heard Dorian talk about her reaction to him. If what the man said was true, then she _had_ felt the bond, _did_ feel a connection with him. He was too pleased by the revelation to brood about what it could mean down the line.

Thanking Dorian, he returned to his room to ponder. Did he approach her with what he’d learned? But what would he say? Was he willing to explore the possibility of something with her? He sighed. _No, I cannot afford to get tangled up with her_. And yet, the loss of her company affected him. Perhaps he could approach her from that angle.

Lying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts in a jumble. _Is is so wrong to want your own mate, old wolf? Would you have her suffer the pain of separation? Can you stand by and do nothing should she let another into her bed, and her heart?_

So many questions, to which he had no answers. 

_Such is the fate of the Dread Wolf._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _amicus_ \- friend (usually used to refer to a trusted friend).
> 
> I figure that if you side with the mages, they're going to reeeeally nosy about the Anchor, given that it's made of magic and all. Templars on the other hand will stay as far away from you as possible.
> 
> Also, Solas just needs a hug already :(


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a jaunty little trip to the seaside... not really, no.

She should have expected as much from the name. It was a dead giveaway: the _Storm_ Coast.

They had been greeted by a thundering storm, the heavy rains soaking their armor in a matter of minutes. They had ridden through it, desperate to get to the shelter of the camp, their face numb from the sting of the water and the slap of the winds. Their arrival had camp had been welcome, but hadn’t brought much respite; it was too wet for regular flame. 

With the help of Dorian, she had set up some Veilfire torches for visibility, and they’d huddled into the large tent, shivering as they took off their armor. Once again, she and the Tevinter mage had come to the rescue, using heating spells to dry their clothes and fill the tent with warmth.

Someone had come by with hot stew, which they were now gratefully partaking of.

“Remind me never to listen to you again, Kiana.” Dorian complained. “I’ve never been so wet in my entire life! I expected a jaunty little vacation to the seaside, not whatever this is!”

“Just like a Tevint to complain about a little water,” Cassandra smirked, only to glare at him a moment later as her stew turned into a chunk of ice.

She sighed, and reheated Cassandra’s bowl. “Hopefully the weather will be better tomorrow,” she said with very little enthusiasm. “What do we do about these Blades of Hessarian, Seeker? A few of our men have gone missing. I’d like to track them down, see if we can rescue them.”

Cassandra gave her a suspicious gaze. “This wouldn’t involve hunting down the bandits, would it?”

She returned the Seeker’s gaze with an innocent one. “What if they’ve been captured by the bandits? What would you have me do then? They might die if we don’t get them out!”

The dark-haired woman gave a disgusted huff. “Fine. We’ll take care of the bandits. But first we track down the missing scouts. If we find them, no approaching the Blades of Hessarian, is that understood?”

She gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Cassandra let out a disgusted grunt. “You say that, but we both know you’ll do exactly what you want come the morning.” Their meal over, the group settled down for the night.

The morning that greeted them was filled with - no surprises there - more rain. Thankfully, it was a light drizzle, and did not hamper their efforts to search for the Chargers. With a reassuring word to Harding about the lost scouts, they set off towards the beach.

They’d found the Chargers there, all right - right in the middle of a battle against some Venatori agents. Without a moment’s hesitation, they had charged into the fray, and a few short minutes later, the battle was over, and she was properly introduced to The Iron Bull.

She hadn’t been surprised to find the Qunari there - Leliana, of course, had done her research - but she _had_ been surprised by his free, easy admission to being one of the Ben Hassrath. She’d asked him several questions about it, pondering the risks and benefit in hiring a man who had straight up told her he was going to be passing on information about the Inquisition to his superiors in Par Vollen. On the other hand, he had promised to share any information he received from them. She’d also been impressed with how well he fought. Deciding he’d be a good fit for the Inquisition, she’d hired them, and not too long later, they were shaking hands.

She briefly met his group, a wide and diverse group of people, all of whom she suspected had been on the run from the law at one time or another. She didn’t judge them for it, having been in similar situations herself, and instead settled for a warm welcome, much to the Chargers’ surprise. 

Krem - full name Cremisius Aclassi - the second-in-command, was impressive. He was forthright, straight as an arrow, and had honor. There were a few words exchanged between him and Dorian, with Dorian having to retreat with his tail tucked between his legs. It had been uncomfortable for Dorian to meet a fellow Tevinter who had experienced slavery first hand, and had challenged his preconceived notions about the good it did for men to have the option to sell themselves into slavery. 

She’d asked Bull to join her in searching for the missing scouts, which he’d acquiesced to, sending his men ahead to Haven. During their search, they came across a fantastic sight in a nearby cove - a Giant battling a High Dragon. It was the first time Kiana had seen one of them relatively close - for the longest time she had thought they were naught but legends of old - and the sight thrilled her. She stared up at the sky, taking in the magnificence of the dragon with awed eyes. _I wish Solas was here to see this_ she thought a little wistfully.

Bull was excited too, but for an entirely different reason, trying his hardest to persuade her to go and fight the beast themselves. She placated him with the promise to do so once the Breach was closed, much to Cassandra’s disapproval.

They ran into some of the Hessarian bandits, and after a short fight had taken them down. Soon after, they discovered an old, ramshackle hut. Upon entering it, they were dismayed to find the bodies of the Inquisition agents. Her temper flared, and she was more than ready to march into the Hessarian stronghold for vengeance when Dorian had handed her some bandit notes. 

_It is not our place to disagree… we have orders…. If they’re worthy, let them come with the Mercy’s Crest. The Blades of Hessarian will listen._

As strange as the note was, stranger was the fact that the instructions to crafting the Crest were included with the note. It was almost as if someone had deliberately left them behind.

She noted down the names of the dead men, and they gave the bodies a respectable funeral. The mood was somber when they settled into the hut for the night. Kiana used the light of the campfire, and the time afforded to her by virtue of taking the first watch shift to craft the Crest. If what she had understood from the note was right, there were some of the bandits who did not agree with the orders they had been given. She could not, in good conscience, kill them all were that even remotely true. 

The following day, they managed to track down the Hessarian stronghold. True to the note, they were not attacked; rather, they were informed that the Crest was used to challenge the leader, and were taken to him.

The Hessarian leader was a hulking brute of a man, with two vicious hounds. She was thankful that Bull was with her; the man held off the more dangerous attacks from her. She was midway to landing an attack on the leader when she gave a yelp of pain, and looked down to find a hound latched onto her thigh. She sank her blades into the creature, and with a howl it let go of her. Quickly patching up the would with a simple healing spell, she continued on her quest, only to have the second of the creatures gnaw on her calf. _Frigging piss_. She jolted the animal with a lighting bolt, and then focused on taking down the creatures, leaving the leader to the others for the moment. 

Once they were taken down - the blighters had been more difficult to bring down than she’d expected - she turned her attention back to the leader. Hidden under the cloak of stealth, she crept up behind him, and just as he’d brought down his hatchet on Cassandra’s shield she struck, plunging her daggers into his neck, and watched with some measure of satisfaction as the man let out an unholy shout as he fell. Her need for vengeance for their fallen men was sated.

The second in command had approached her - his name was Ivor, he said - and pledged the remaining men to her. “Your Worship. The Blades of Hessarian are at your service. If you want eyes on the Coast - here we are.”

“You mean you’ll serve the Inquisition?”

“I mean we are here to serve _you_. We obey the Herald of Andraste and no other.”

She groaned. _Not the Herald business again!_ Still, if the men were ready to help her - and by extension, the Inquisition - she could hardly refuse.

“Very well. I want to you help the Inquisition scouts. Help them set up camps in the region, and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Should you see any men in hooded cowls, I want to be informed immediately. You can send word through the scouts.”

The man bowed his head. “As your Worship dictates.”

“One more thing. I’d much appreciate it if you just called me Kiana.”

He raised his eyes to her, startled.“But - your Worship -” She cut him off. “Was Andraste not a mortal woman? So too am I, and I cannot accept a title that was not meant for me.”

He searched her face, before once again bowing his head in agreement. “A servant of the Maker must be humble and brave, with a good heart. In you I see all three. I shall obey your orders, Kiana.” He murmured. She sighed. _Posturing is necessary,_ she remembered Solas once saying, and so said nothing.

They settled in the camp, the healers of the Hessarians tending to their wounds. She was chastised for having the dog bite on her thigh healed before cleaning it, and had to endure the pain as the healers cut into the skin once more to irrigate the flesh beneath. Once it was cleaned, she allowed Dorian to heal her, listening in amusement as he expounded his hate of, as he so delightfully put it, ‘demon dogs.’

The next morning, they returned back to the base camp, with a promise from the Hessarians to keep an eye out for any sign of the Wardens. Back at base camp, she updated Harding on the plight of the soldiers, handing her the list of the fallen men and asking her to inform their families. They spent the rest of the day collecting herbs and metals to take back with them to Haven, gathering blood lotus and spindleweed. She even managed to find some prophet’s laurel, and was greatly pleased. She knew she would use it to make a very effective healing salve.

Satisfied with the materials they had accumulated, they headed back to the camp. There, they spent the evening breaking open a cask of ale, and sharing stories and laughs. In the midst of all they faced, it was a welcome respite.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the war room, the Commander catches Kiana's eye...

She had just stepped foot into her room when she was accosted by one of Cullen’s men - Jim, she thought his name was - informing her that a war room meeting had been called. With a small groan, she asked him to inform them she would be there shortly.

She only had time to have a quick bath and don a fresh change of clothes before the meeting began. Once there, she wondered why Cullen looked so grim and serious, and remembered that they had still not resolved the matter of him smiting her. _After the meeting, then._

After discussing the state of the mages, it was decided that they would attempt to close the Breach in two days. That would give the mages enough time to get their staffs - and themselves - prepped.

“Anything else?” Cassandra drawled.

Cullen cleared his throat. “We’ve heard back from Ser Barris. The news he sends is disturbing, to say the least. He mention says that communication into and out of Therinfal Redoubt - which the templars have occupied - has ceased. He saw my message by sheer chance, and managed to smuggle his reply through the help of one of the servants. He says the templars have been divided up into several groups; his group is headed by a certain Knight Captain Denam, who has been pushing a new form of lyrium onto them. Barris mentions that none of his group mates trust the Knight Captain, and have refrained from taking the lyrium so far. He also mentions that he is trying to break out of the Keep, and hopes to join us with the rest of his group.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence. She looked at the others, and knew the same thing ran through all their minds. _Is it red lyrium? Are the templars being corrupted by red lyrium?_

Finally, she spoke. “Red lyrium?”

Cullen gave a gruff nod. “Most likely, yes. Now we know why the stuff was being mined. Maker knows how much of the stuff reached the templars before you shut down the Hinterlands operation, Herald.”

She was too troubled by the notion to chastise him for addressing her by her unofficial title instead of her name. “Is there any way we can get into Therinfal like we did Redcliffe Castle?”

He shook his head. “It would be foolish to try, especially if what you’ve said of red templars is true.”

“We cannot just sit back and not take any action!” She exclaimed. Turning to Cassandra, she asked, “How is this escaping the notice of the Lord Seeker? Surely he would know if the templars were being infected with red lyrium!”

Cassandra replied in a bewildered tone. “I do not know. I always thought the man was rational, logical. After Val Royeaux though, I cannot tell.”

“Unless he is aware of what’s happening, and is complicit.” They all looked at Leliana, who continued. “It makes sense, no? Was he not the one who took command of the templars? Their occupation of Therinfal - a former abode of the Seeker Order - would have been under his orders. He cannot be innocent in introducing the templars to red lyrium.”

Cassandra was horrified, and Kiana had a moment of sympathy. Despite the fact that she had quit the Seekers, Cassandra was a staunch believer in the Order. 

“Is there nothing we can do, then?” She asked, frustrated.

Josephine piped up. “Perhaps if we can rally the nobles and have them approach the Lord Seeker? He can ignore the Inquisition, but he would be hard pressed to ignore some of more noble Ferelden and Orlais houses.”

She mulled it over. “That might work, but how can we sway the nobles to our cause? They pay us no attention as it is.”

“Maybe if we send them word about possible infiltration by Tevinter mages?” Josephine suggested.

“No, that would not work. I expect most of the Ferelden nobles are well aware of what happened with the mages in Redcliffe Castle”, she sighed. “Whatever we do, it’ll have to wait until after we close the Breach. Maybe after the Breach is closed, we can instigate the nobles into questioning the Lord Seeker as to why the templars refused to aid the Inquisition with the Breach.”

Cassandra nodded. “That might work.”

She addressed Leliana. “Have you heard anything about the demon army this Elder One commands? Or the assassination of Empress Celene?”

Leliana replied, a hint of frustration in her voice. “There has been no news about the demon army. If you and Dorian were not so positive about having heard of it, I would question your sanity. But I will continue my inquiries. As to Empress Celene, the woman is still engaged in civil war against her cousin, Duke Gaspard. I have learnt that both sides are being aided - and further pitted against each other - by an unknown third party. I suspect the elf Briala. She was the Empress’ former spymaster, until she was accused of betraying the Empress, and arrested. I hope to learn more about her. Perhaps Briala will be willing to aid us.”

She nodded. “I hope closing the Breach will put a stop to this Elder One’s plans. Our next step will be to track him down, and put an end to him. Perhaps Alexius knows more about him.”

“We’ve been questioning him. All he told us was the Elder One is an old Tevinter magistrate, who seeks to restore Tevinter to its former glory.”

She looked at Leliana hopefully. “So maybe closing the Breach will put an effective stop to his plans.”

“Maybe. We can only hope.”

As the group exited the room, she found her way to Cullen’s side. “We need to have a word, Commander”, she murmured. “If you would be so kind as to join me in my quarters.” She drifted away, heading towards her room. Once there, she waited impatiently for the ex-templar to join her.

Cullen entered the room hesitantly, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. Since the unfortunate event, she had ignored his presence everywhere save the war room. 

“Thank you for meeting me, Commander” she began politely, and he winced at the formality. “I think you’re aware of what I’m going to talk about.”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Herald, I sincerely apologize for the attack, and I can assure you it will never happen again.”

She looked at him with a strange look in her eyes that only served to heighten his nervousness. “Do you mean that? I mean, are you really sorry, or are you just sorry because Cassandra ticked you off?” 

Her question threw him off balance. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be sorry?”

“Because you still hate mages? Maybe not consciously, but unconsciously, you still harbor resentment towards them… for your experiences.”

“Maker, Kiana, I might have in the past, but no longer.” He started pacing, restless. “You have to believe me. I swear on Andraste that I did not attack you because I hate mages! I genuinely thought that you might have been possessed. Not my wisest judgement, but that’s all it was, I swear.”

He looked - and sounded - genuine enough, and the last of her misgivings fell. “I believe you, Cullen.” She said softly. He stopped pacing and turned towards her. “I forgive you. Whatever happened… we’ll let that go. It was a mistake… just don’t do it again, okay?” She laughed.

He exhaled, relieved. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy for you to forgive me, and I understand if you can’t trust me for a while -” She cut him off. “I said we’ll let that go, didn’t I? And we shall. Poof! It’s gone” She dusted her hands for emphasis. “Actually, I think I might even have to thank you. You showed me that I’m vulnerable to templar abilities. If I were to get caught in the crossfire between our mages and an errant templar - as I mentioned to Cassandra - I would be hit hard. I can’t afford that, so… will you teach me how to counter them?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You want me to attack you deliberately? Why?”

She replied patiently, “Because I want to be able to defend myself against them should the need arise. Frankly, with all that talk about red templars, it is best that I do so. Will you help me?”

Cullen eyed her appraisingly. “I will, but I have to warn you I’m… I’m not in the best position to fully help you. I will do all I can, but I might have to ask for the help of another templar. His name is Rylen - former Knight Captain Rylen - he’s a good man, honest and honorable. He can be trusted with your secret.”

She mulled it over. Already too many people knew her secret for her liking. _Why did Cullen feel like he couldn’t help her? There was something that the man was hiding._ Still, when it came to training and military matters she trusted his judgement, and so she conceded. “If you think it wise, Cullen, I shall defer to your judgement.” 

He flushed at her words, and she found it adorable. She was well aware he was an attractive man - tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. She liked how his blond hair was always slicked back neatly, the stubble on his jaw. She was intrigued by the tiny cut on his upper lip… _Maker’s balls, Kiana, what is wrong with you?_

It was her turn to turn pink. She stammered out, “Well let me know a time convenient for you, and we shall practice.” He nodded, and took his leave. As he was about to exit, she followed behind. Leaning against the doorway, she gave him a small smirk. “I shall look forward to it, Commander” she said lazily, chuckling softly as he turned a deeper shade of red.

As she turned to re-enter her room, she spotted Solas out of the corner of her eye.

And he did not look happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen! _dun dun dunnnn_


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas might be just a _wee_ bit jealous of the Commander's visit to Kiana.

_Had she been flirting with Cullen?_ He paced the floor of his hut, a snarl at the corners of his mouth. _Why_ would she? Especially if what he’d heard from Dorian was true… 

She had been polite with him even after her return from the Storm Coast, extending to him the same courtesy he gave her. He had been trying to keep her at arm’s length - perhaps this was her way of doing the same?

He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Casting a spell over the door to ensure his privacy, he rolled up his sleeves to observe the mark. His body went taut with need as he pictured her running her fingers over it, over _him…_

He remembered her reaction to his touch, how she had staggered, her face contorted in momentary pleasure, the sudden, ripe scent of her arousal, and he groaned. He lay back on the mattress and slid his hand into his breeches, shutting his eyes and picturing her in his mind. The flow of her ebony tresses, the slight tilt to her nose, the way her eyes narrowed in focus in the middle of battle, her cries of victory… with a moan, he felt his seed pour into his hand. Panting, he rested for a few moments before getting up and cleaning himself. 

To his annoyance, it had not brought him much relief. He still ached from the near-constant desire of wanting her, and his attempts to bring himself a modicum of respite seemed to be working less and less of late.

An image came to him unbidden - of Kiana and the Commander, wrapped together in that most intimate of intimate embraces; of her moans and sighs as the Commander moved over her. The thought of it made him _growl_ deep in his throat, the wolf in him _frothing_ at the idea of his mate being taken by another.

Without thinking, he flung open the door and stomped his way over to Kiana’s lodgings.

She looked up in consternation as the door was thrown open, her heart beating harder as she saw who stood in the doorway. _Solas._

There was something different about him; even though his features wore the same calm, neutral expression she’d come to associate with him, something warned her that he was not quite calm. She pulled her face into a polite mask, and greeted him. “Solas, how nice to see you. What can I do for you?”

He stepped over the threshold, shutting the door firmly behind him as he did so, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed. “Is everything okay?” 

Still he said nothing, only walked towards her, a predatory, dangerous gleam in his eye, stopping when he stood in front of her. She’d never seen this side of Solas, had never expected it of him, and to her mild surprise rather than fearing him, it _excited_ her. She looked at him challengingly, her gaze never wavering, expecting him to back down, but he only curled his lip up into a feral-looking smirk. And _Maker_ , that sent a sliver of arousal down to her core, and she felt herself grow damp.

Heat blossomed in her cheeks, but she refused to cower, staring into his eyes as he lowered her head to hers, closer, closer. At this distance she could see tiny flecks of royal blue scattered in his iris, could feel the heat rolling off of his, could _smell_ him - the scent of wood and sweet musk flooded her senses. It took everything in her not to grab him and pull him closer, to run her tongue down the slope of that dangerous jaw to see if he tasted as good…

She swallowed again, harder, unconsciously letting out a soft hiss of breath. The sound seemed to pull him back to reality, and he snapped his head back, realization setting in. He cleared his throat. “I apologize, Herald. I do not know what came over me.” With that, he spun around and walked out of her room as though he was chased by demons.

 _Don’t go_ , she thought, the words nearly spilling out of her mouth. She was aroused and wanting, desperate to know the feel of his lips against hers. Her pride forbade her from saying anything though, and she instead let her eyes linger on his back, wondering what had spurred on his sudden, unexpected frame of mind.

He couldn’t get to the privacy of his chamber fast enough. _Fenedhis_ , he swore. It was not like him to lose control like that. If she hadn’t reacted… he swore again, thinking of how she refused to draw back from his gaze, the proud tilt of her head, the elegant curve of her neck. Her scent had been warm, all sweet spice and amber, and then there had been the heady kick of her arousal… 

_Fen’harel, ‘ma ane felasil. You forget your duty._ He sank his head in his hands, suddenly weary. It was getting harder and harder to remain impersonal with her, harder to ignore the demands of both the bond and his wolf.

And now he also feared that if he did not claim her, someone else would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fen’harel, ‘ma ane felasil_ \- (Dread Wolf), you are a moron.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas calms Kiana's fears about closing the Breach.

The advisors were in a frenzy, trying to figure out the Herald’s whereabouts. No one had seen her slip out of the village; it was the day before the closing of the Breach was to be attempted, and the village was at full capacity.

Solas knew where she’d be - he knew her secret place. He crossed the frozen lake gingerly, and climbed up the steep slope to the top of the hill. Like he’d predicted, she stood there, a lone figure in the frozen wilderness.

She turned to face him as he approached her. “You always seem to find me, Solas. Perhaps you should consider offering your scouting skills to Leliana.” She teased lightly, but her eyes were troubled.

“Perhaps I should”, he replied with a smile. They observed the hustle and bustle of the village that lay below them in companionable silence. “Nervous?” He asked casually. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” she asked. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She inhaled, long and deep. “So many people are looking up to me. Everyone seems to think it’s a done deal. They have so much hope, so much _certainty_ , that I can can close the Breach. But what if I can’t?” She raised her hand, staring at the eerie green glow. “What if this doesn’t have enough power to close the Breach? You said yourself that whatever created it required an immense amount of power. I am just one person.”

“You have the mages behind you, _da’len_. You aren’t doing this alone.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course.” She fidgeted. “Truth be told, I’m scared, Solas.”

“You would be foolish not to be. What do you fear the most?”

“I fear failure. Of letting down all those people who have faith in me. I’m scared that the process of closing the Breach will drain me dry, and result in my death. I’m scared something might go wrong, and I end up getting possessed.”

“All reasonable fears to have.”

“Are you worried at all?”

“Yes. It would be a foolish man who does not have a small amount of fear over the unknown.”

She gave a small laugh. “Somehow, I find it hard to believe you’re worried. You don’t seem the kind.”

“On the contrary. I share your concerns. You raise some good points. But allow me to assuage your fears a little, if I may. One - if you are unable to close the Breach tomorrow, it will be of little matter. We will merely find more people to ally with, until we gain enough strength to power your Anchor. Two - if something does go wrong, Cullen, Cassandra and the others will be there to protect and defend you. If you worry about possession - well, who does not? With your indomitable will, I do not think you will have to worry about it too much. As far as dying -” his voice softened, “have you not worried about it each time you are in the midst of battle? Death is something that all fear.”

She ruminated over his words. “You’re right I suppose,” she said finally, a small smile on her face, “but I’m still apprehensive.”

He reached out and rubbed her arm reassuringly. “Being afraid doesn’t make you any less courageous, _da’len_. Courage is not the absence of fear. Rather, it is the knowledge that there is something more important than fear.”

She grimaced. “It’s not like I’m a stranger to fear. With the things I’ve seen, you’d think I would be used to it.” She sighed. “Then again, I’ve never been in a position where my failure could _doom the entire world._ ”

_It was my failure first, da’len._ He gave a forced laugh. “Fair point.” Again they fell into a comfortable silence for several minutes. “Solas?” she said softly. 

“Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t been very… nice to you of late. I’m sorry for that. You have been nothing but a good friend to me, and I haven’t treated you as well as I should have. If something…” she swallowed, “… if something were to happen to me tomorrow, and I died, I just… I just want you to know that you were a true friend.”

“Don’t say that, _da’len_. You will be successful tomorrow, and we will celebrate.” 

She sighed. “I hope so, _lethallin_.” She smiled. “Did I say that correctly? _Lethallin_?”

“It was perfect. Where did you learn that?” he smiled back at her, touched. 

“I’ve been trying to teach myself. Josephine managed to procure a book on elven phrases for me.” _Liar,_ she thought. _You liar. Why not just tell him the truth, that you speak elven, that Arianni taught you all she knew? That you learnt more of it from the spirits in the Fade?_

“Your pronunciation of the word is impeccable. Do you know anything else?”

She furrowed her brow as though in thought. “Why is it none of them will come to mind now that you’ve asked me?”

He chuckled. “Never mind.” Casually, as though it was an afterthought, he added, “If you’re interested in learning the language, I would be happy to help.” _Say yes_ , he thought. 

“Actually, Solas, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Your magic has great mastery over the Fade and its forces. I would love to learn how to do that, too. Would you teach me how?”

He had not been expecting that, but the prospect excited him. “Of course, _lethallan_. I would be happy to.”

She smiled then, a beatific smile that lit up her face. “Oh, thank you! I cannot tell you how exciting it is to know that I can practice, and learn new things. And with other mages, too!” She looked at him, a little shy. “I hope you will not judge the little I know too harshly, Solas.”

_'Ma vhera, I could never judge you harshly. You do not know how much I admire you._ “Do not sell yourself short, Kiana” he said gently. “You are a much better mage than you give yourself credit for.”

Reassured, and filled with a strange kind of pride, she changed the topic to the former Grand Enchanter’s preparations for the ceremony. They discussed the merits and demerits of the various branches of magic, and Solas was not surprised to learn that she was well versed in healing and elemental magic; it was, after all, what she could teach herself. He was surprised to learn just how skilled in healing she was. She was comfortable with drawing compassionate spirits from the Fade to heal her fallen allies. And he’d seen first hand just how powerful her Mind Blast was.

He had a feeling she would learn what he taught her very quickly, and told her as such. She laughed and hoped it would be so.

Some commotion near the banks of the frozen lake caught her eye, and she noticed a few of Leliana’s scouts headed their way. Sighing, she said, a tad forlornly, “We should get back before they discover my hiding place.” She turned for a moment, hesitated, then spurred on by the thought that things might not go according to plan tomorrow, she moved back to him. “Thank you, Solas. For everything.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him, trying to pour all her unspoken emotions into the gesture. He stiffened, and she realized she had made him uncomfortable and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gripped her wrist, holding her in place. “I’m not uncomfortable, _da’mi._ You startled me.” Gently, he pulled her to him, and her heart thrilled at the action. Once again she wrapped her arms around him, losing herself in the feel of his arms around her. His scent surrounded her, comforted her, warmed her. She felt the brush of his aura against hers, tasted the zing of it. She wanted - no, needed - this moment to last forever. Alas, it was not meant to be, and all too soon she pulled away from him reluctantly. He seemed just as reluctant to let her go. 

_Maybe this whole attraction thing isn’t very one-sided after all,_ she thought, thrilled by the prospect. Daringly, she threaded her arm through his and headed towards Haven; he did not pull his arm away, and they hiked back to the village with their arms linked, much to the amusement of the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I seem to have a lot of (seemingly) pointless dialogue, but I'm penning out little scenes that I can sort of see in my head between Kiana and Solas. I'm sorry if it's boring and/or slow!
> 
> (Also totally borrowed a line from the Princess Diaries. It's my guilty pleasure movie, haha).


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to the Breach!

It was time.

She stood in the middle of the devastation that was the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and stared up at the Breach. _It looks like the eye of a storm_ , she thought, admiring the dangerous beauty of it.

Around the perimeter, the mages circled her. Cullen and his Templars stood behind them, their arms on the hilts of their swords in readiness. Leliana and her archers took aim from the high ground. She could see her companions scattered through. Dorian and Vivienne stood behind her, while Cassandra flanked her right. Solas, to her mild surprise, was pacing up and down, his face fixed in a mask of intense focus. _And he isn’t even the one who has to do all the work,_ she thought, trying to make light of the situation, trying to ignore the snakes coiling in the pit of her stomach.

She watched as the mages aligned their staffs perfectly, as they stood, ramrod straight, waiting for the signal that would push their wills, their magic, into her. In unison, in synchrony. It had to be so. Even a single misstep could ruin everything.

“We should have charged admission for this spectacle,” Dorian joked. “The nobles would have paid through their teeth to witness this. Such an easy way to fill the Inquisition coffers! Perhaps if you fail, Kiana, we can do so on your second attempt.” She gave him a grin over her shoulder; she knew he was trying to lessen the tension that rolled through her. “And the closer you are to the Herald, the pricier the seats, don’t forget that!” She joked back. He chuckled, and the sound of it eased her tension. The atmosphere was too tight, too tense, everybody was too on edge. It was anxiety in the air was abrasive, and it was rubbing the edges of her aura raw. 

If she made it out of this alive, if they all made it out of this alive, she was buying Dorian a drink. No, scratch that. She was going to kiss him and buy him a crate of the Vint-9 Rowan’s Rose he so enjoyed. And then they were going to finish the crate. Together. In one sitting.

She saw Cassandra give her the signal that indicated the mages were ready. _Well, fuck,_ she thought. _Here goes nothing._ She raised her arm, and the Anchor immediately caught the trail ends of the massive Breach and connected with them. 

Slowly, she started walking towards the epicenter of the Breach. She felt more strands of the Breach connect to her arm. The air around her glowed sickly green, and she felt the unpleasant crackle of her Anchor, like a million ants running under her skin.

She heard Cassandra call out to the mages, heard Solas address them. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!” She felt a slight sizzle in the air, could smell the ozone. _Almost there,_ she thought. One step. Two steps. Three steps brought her right beneath the Breach, her Anchor now completely connected with it, every strand of the Veil that encircled it held by the magnet of her Anchor.

With a deep breath, she drew up on her will and her magic to force the strands to join and meld together. She felt two strands pull together; then another two; then two more. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder when she felt them resisting her will. _I will close this. I have to._

Lost in focus, she didn’t hear the chant of the mages. Just as she was about to waver, she was hit with a bolt of magic, and felt the presence of three more wills join hers. _Dorian and Solas… and Vivienne,_ she thought in surprise. She hadn’t expected Madame de Fer to pitch in. With their help, she closed a little more of the Breach. But even with that, she had barely closed a quarter of the giant hole.

_A little more… a little more… come on, a little more…_ she didn’t notice that her nose was slowly trickling blood. _I can’t do it by myself any more,_ she thought frantically, and roared out “NOW!”.

The mages, under Fiona’s guidance, struck the ground with their staffs, all at once, in tandem, and unleashed their wills and their magic for her to draw on.

The flood of magic overwhelmed her, the rush of it causing her eardrums to pop, and the blood vessels in her eyes to burst. Blood flowed out in torrents from her nose; she barely noticed it. The added wills allowed her to push more, to join the strands, to join the ends of the Breach. 

_Halfway there,_ she forced the combined magic deep into her core so she could draw from it, _three quarters,_ she could feel the air crackle around her, felt the static cover her hand, her arm, her body. _Almost there… so close… I can DO this!_ With a burst of hope, the final strands well pulled together, and the ends of the gap were brought together.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding white light, and a shockwave burst across the ground, knocking her - and everyone else - back several feet. Once it was gone, the ground smoldered, steam rising out of it, indicating just how much energy had been used in the area.

Solas quickly got his feet and made his way over to her. Much to his shock, she was hunched over - _alive and conscious_ \- and as he approached, she raised her head in defiance as though to say, _“I still stand.”_ She rose to her feet, staggering a little as she did so. He quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her. Even though his mana was almost completely drained, he managed to dredge up a small amount to heal her nose bleed.. He knew she’d have suffered more internal injuries, but he needed to get her to the village to examine her fully. For know, though, he was content that she was alive, and that the Breach was closed.

“You did it!” Cassandra gasped out in awe.

Her statement set off everyone’s cheers. She raised her fist - the Anchor glowing bright - into the air in victory, and the cries grew louder. 

Leaning close to him, she mumbled, “Solas, get me out of here. I’m going to pass out very soon, and I’d rather not have anyone see me like that.” He understood, and called over Cassandra and Dorian. Between the three of them, they managed to get her to a secluded corner, where Dorian forced a healing potion down her throat while Solas examined her for injuries. 

“How are you feeling, _da’mi_?” He asked, slightly alarmed when she stared at him blankly. “I can’t hear you,” she said, a little too loudly, and he understood that her ears were damaged. 

“Her ears are damaged, but thankfully her eyes are still functional, even if they look a tad gruesome.” He whispered to Dorian. The Tevint mage nodded. “She has a few burns along her arm, and the right side of her body; probably because she served as a conduit for the energy.” He whispered back.

“Can you heal her?” Cassandra asked worriedly. 

“Of course. What do you think we are, incompetent?” Dorian scoffed. “We’ll be able to heal her as soon as we gain some of our mana back. I daresay even Kiana could heal herself if she had the mana. What do you say, Kiana?” He turned to look at her, but she had fallen unconscious, the strain on her mind too much for her body to bear.

They managed to get her back to her room without drawing much attention to themselves, and soon she was tucked into bed, Solas keeping a watchful eye on her. Soon, though, the exhaustion rolled over him as well, and his head drooped as he nodded off to sleep.

She woke up, utterly disoriented. Looking around, she found herself in her quarters. It was dark outside, and the light from the fireplace bathed the room in a hazy golden glow. She could hear faint cries of happiness from the tavern, and it hit her: she’d done it. She’d closed the Breach.

A soft snore by her side had her whipping her head to trace the source of the sound. She found Solas sitting in a chair by her bed - a rather uncomfortable chair by the looks of it. She debated whether or not to wake him, before deciding to do so; he couldn’t be getting any decent rest in that position.

“Solas,” she called out softly. “Solas?” He jerked, and opened his eyes, his gaze settling on hers. 

“You’re awake, _da’mi_. How do you feel?”

“Fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry for waking you up, but you didn’t look comfortable in that chair. I feel like I need to stretch my limbs. A walk will do me some good, I believe. Feel free to bunker down in my bed in the meantime.” She swung her legs onto the floor. 

He rose to his feet and ambled towards her before sitting on the edge of her bed. “Let me examine you.” She rolled her eyes. “I feel fine, truly.” He wasn’t convinced. “You do look fine,” he agreed, “but Dorian and I were only able to heal you superficially. The burns along your arm will turn into permanent scars if I don’t tend to them again.”

She rolled up her tunic, and saw the ugly red streaks along her arms. Sighing, she pulled off her tunic, aware that she had a camisole beneath. Still, the sudden, soft hiss of breath he drew in pleased her, and she had to duck her head to cover a smirk.

And then he took her arm in his hands, and suddenly it wasn’t so funny any more, not when his fingers - and his magic - trailed up her skin. He moved slowly, making sure one inch of skin was perfectly healed before moving on to the next, and she knew, she _knew_ he was doing it on purpose. Her Anchor arm complete, he pulled her left arm towards him, and her heart skittered as she remembered what his touch on the strange mark on her skin had felt like.

It was sensitive, so sensitive, and oh, so lovely, the way his fingers danced against her skin. She swore she could she could feel his magic reach her bones, making them hum with soft pleasure. She tensed as his fingers approached the mark, and this time round it was he who smirked at her and he ran a gentle finger slowly over it.

Immediately she felt the same rush of pleasure rush down to her core. He wasn’t done, though; he ran his finger over the mark again, this time with a little more pressure, and pushing a little bit of magic through it. She nearly came undone. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, drawing blood, in an effort to remain silent.

When he finally let go of her arm, she took a deep silent breath. She just knew he knew how his touch affected her mark, and she refused to give him any kind of reaction. Instead, she looked straight into his eyes, pretending that the flush on her cheeks and her dilated pupils were perfectly normal. “ _Is that all_?” Her eyes seemed to say. “ _Do you really think that I would cave so easily_?”

The blatant challenge in her eyes made him want to answer it. He wanted to show her that he could make her fall to pieces if he wanted to, that when he _truly_ touched her she would not know the meaning of silence. 

Instead, he tut-tutted, and drew his thumb across her bloody lip, healing it, noting with satisfaction how she swallowed thickly and dropped her gaze from his. Still nonchalant, he got up and casually said, “Josephine is having a celebratory party for everyone tomorrow evening. I hope you feel better by then, _lethallan_.”

She only stared at him as he left her room, chuckling softly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _da'mi_ \- little blade  
>  _lethallan_ \- friend
> 
> Solas is _such_ a tease!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For whom the bell tolls...

The party was in full swing; cheery faces surrounded her, and she could hear Maryden singing a ballad… about her? Kiana winced. She was no hero, and she knew it.

Despite the dancing and the merrymaking, something she would have been more than happy to join in usually, she stood apart from the crowd. A sense of foreboding had filled her all day, and she didn’t know why. She nursed her tankard of mead, trying to push the gloomy thoughts away from her head.

She heard someone approaching, and found Cassandra standing by her casually, the Seeker’s eyes taking in the revelry. “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred, but calm. The Breach is sealed.”

She smirked. “I could have told you that myself.”

“Better to confirm with someone who is knowledgeable in the Fade. We’ve reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this is a victory. _Your_ victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t me, it was the mark. And we all had a part in it.” She chewed at her lip worriedly. “We can’t rest easy. We don’t know what caused this.”

“I agree. One success does not guarantee peace. But the immediate danger is gone, and many of our allies will not see any need to continue this alliance. We will need new focus. And we will need to be wary.”

Suddenly, warning bells rang out through the village. _What in Andraste’s name is happening?_ Kiana saw Cullen rush into the village square. “Forces approaching! To arms!” The men and women - who had, only minutes ago, been in the midst of drinking and celebration - ran towards the small armory. The rest of the villagers let out shouts of fear, and were guided by the Chantry sisters towards the Chantry. Kiana ran to her room and donned her armor in record time; when she left her room she was joined by Dorian and Solas. Together, they moved towards the gates, tense and on edge.

They met up with the rest of her companions at the gate. She was surprised to see Varric’s eyes bright and focused - hadn’t the dwarf been deep in the cups only moments ago? She must have looked puzzled, because he gave her a smile and a wink. 

“Cullen?” she asked.

“One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

The ambassador spoke, a quaver in her voice. “Under what banner?”

“None.” Cullen replied grimly.

_A army without a banner? How is it? Who were they?_ So many questions and no answers. She was frustrated.

Behind her, she heard the Josephine talking with Cullen. The Antivan was clearly terrified, and she thought she heard Cullen telling her to go to the Chantry with the rest of the villagers. For some reason, her focus was drawn towards the gates; it almost felt like she was waiting for someone.

_But who?_

There was a flash of light behind the doors, and they rattled heavily. Everyone froze, and their hands went to their weapons. _Was this the start of battle?_ she wondered.

Then she heard a boyish voice. “You need to let me in! I can’t help if I don’t come in!”

She ran towards the doors and flung them open, ignoring the warnings of her companions, only to see a hulk of a man, covered head to toe in armor, walk menacingly towards her. Before she could draw her daggers, however, he let out a groan and fell to the ground.

Behind him stood a young man dressed in tattered clothing, a wide-brimmed hat obscuring his face. She walked tentatively towards him. He raised his head and looked at her. “I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you.” He faltered. “You probably already know-”

She cut him off. “What is this? What’s going on? Who are they?”

“The templars come to kill you.” His voice chilled her. 

Cullen swore. “Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages, attacking blindly?” She wondered, for a brief moment, if he blamed her.

“The red templars went to the Elder one.” The young man turned towards her again. “You know him. He knows you. You took his mages.”

He pointed to the hills. 

At first, all she saw was was a man in armor, wielding a greatsword almost his size. But then, in a haze of grey smoke, she saw him. She saw the Elder One.

Her blood curdled in fear. 

He - it - was a monstrosity. He stood over twelve feet tall, with a body that was not quite human, although it appeared as though he once had been. He had only patches of skin; the rest of his body was grafted with red lyrium, but on him, the crystals did not glow. From his chest jutted out remnants of armor; so did pauldrons from his back. She could not make out his face - and she hoped she wouldn’t have the the misfortune to gaze upon it from close quarters. _Not today_ , she thought. They were woefully unprepared to match him and his army.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole murmured.

“Cullen! Give me a plan, anything!” she ground out. 

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle.”

The rest of her companions joined her. “We can use the trebuchets. If we launch missiles on the mountains, we can bury most of their army under an avalanche.” Iron Bull suggested.

“And the rest of us can deal with the soldiers that reach the village. Good plan.” Cullen barked out some orders, and a few of the Inquisition soldiers ran to man the trebuchets. 

“Give me a few men, Cullen. The others and I will help keep the templars away from the trebuchets till we can launch them. Get as many of the villagers towards the safety of the Chantry.” she said. Everyone nodded.

“Get out there, and hit them with everything you have.” Cullen turned towards the mages, who were huddled by the gates. “Mages! You! You have sanction to engage them. That is Samson! He will not make this easy.”

_How does Cullen know of him?_ She wondered, and pushed it away. This was no time.

“Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!” He cried out, and his men answered in like, their cries ringing through her ears. _Fuck_ , she thought, _they’re all laying their lives down for me._ She vowed to protect as many of them as she could.

She turned around and addressed everyone. “These templars are nothing like the ones you know. They are far more dangerous, and have been corrupted. You will find many beasts and behemoths. Taken them down as soon as you can, and whatever happens, _do not touch anything on them that glows red_.” She drew out her blades. “We will show them what the Inquisition is made of!” she shouted, her words drawing cheers.

“You certainly know how to put on a show, Kitten.” Varric whispered to her as they waited for the enemy to approach.

“Kitten? Whatever happened to Blades?” she joked.

“Nah, Blades was too direct. Kitten’s more appropriate. People look at you and see you all cuddly and soft, but you’re not. You’re more likely to pounce on them and rip them apart. Hence, Kitten.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re making no sense.”

“Solas is Chuckles, right? Have you ever heard him laugh? So you’re Kitten, because I’ve never seen you be small and helpless.” 

She groaned. “Kitten is a terrible nickname. Can’t I just be Blades? It sounds all nice and scary.”

She never heard his answer, because soon the enemy was on them, and then it was down to business. She found herself slicing through armor, plunging her daggers into one of the beast’s neck - she’d nicknamed them Horrors - and when the Behemoth came, it took her, Iron Bull and Sera a good few minutes to put the creature down.

She used her magic where she could. She discovered, entirely by accident, that the men who wore the metal armor were vulnerable to electricity, that the Horrors did not fare well against fire. She informed her companions, and the mages. Immediately, the battle was marginally easier; between the spells of the mages and the brute force of their warriors, they were able to defend the trebuchet successfully.

One of their men came running towards her. “Your Worship! There’s something wrong with the other trebuchet. We need cover while we try to repair it.” She quickly pulled along Solas, Cassandra, Blackwall, Dorian and Varric, leaving Vivienne, Iron Bull, Sera and Cole to defend the first trebuchet.

Once again, they fought off the waves of the corrupted templars. Her blades were stained red, as was her armor and skin. Downing a healing potion, she ran to the stockpile and noted to her dismay that there was very few left. Certainly not enough for more than four or five people at the most. She refrained from restocking too many, instead taking a single bottle from the pile. 

She spied a Behemoth approaching, and called out a warning. Like clockwork, they all worked together; Dorian, Solas and Varric fell back to a safe distance, allowing them to attack from range. Cassandra and Blackwall charged the creature, attacking it head-first, while she moved into stealth, moving around the battlefield and taking out the other red templars, allowing the warriors to focus on the hulking beast.

Soon, it too was down, and Kiana ran towards the trebuchet. Manning it, she turned the lever and launched the missile, noting a second missile flying next to it - from the first trebuchet, no doubt. Both missiles hit the target, the slopes of the Frostback Mountains, and immediately triggering an avalanche. They all observed, elated, as the snow rushed down the mountain into the valley, saw the myriad torches that the enemy carried be snuffed out. In moments, the valley was covered in snow, and the sound of the red templars in the valley was no more.

The Inquisition soldiers cried out in jubiliation, certain of their victory.

Then a roar filled the air.

_It cannot be._

She gazed up into the sky, and saw the dragon. _FUCK._ She roared. “Everybody move away from the trebuchet!” 

The creature let out a fireball. The trebuchet exploded, splinters flying everywhere. Those closest to the machine were caught up in the blast, and died instantly. Others, like her, were thrown back by the force of the explosion, and had splinters embedded in their skin.

The dragon hovered menacingly in the air. She could see its shadow on the ground. 

_We cannot take it down. We need to fall back._ she thought despairingly.

“What the fuck was that?” Varric swore.

“Everyone get back to the gates!” she ordered. 

The soldiers hobbled as fast as they could. Those that were more grievously injured received help from Solas, Dorian and herself. She gave the rest of the healing potions to those who needed it more than she did. 

She noticed Solas’s armor stained with red, saw him wincing as he picked up his staff. And knew he was injured. “Solas!” she called out, and he turned towards her. “Catch!” She unhooked the last healing potion she carried and threw it at him. He caught it, startled. “I’m fine, Kiana. You need it more!”

Indeed, he thought she did. Her face was covered in a series of cuts. He could see a rather large piece of wood jutting out from the side of her leg. “You take it!”

“Shut up and drink it already!” she barked. He growled softly; the wolf did not like taking orders. “Just do it, okay?” He saw the panic in her eyes, and understood that she _needed_ to see him healed, to assuage her own guilt. He popped open the cork, and drank half of the potion, relief washing over him as his wounds stopped hurting as much. He walked over to her and handed the bottle to her. “Your turn.” She tried to refuse, pressed him to finish it, but he wouldn’t budge. Just as she needed to see him safe, so did he. She gave up and swallowed what remained, and some of his concerns melted away as he saw the cuts on her face heal.

They ran back towards the gates, stopping on the way to help out Harritt. The fool blacksmith had wanted to recover some of his tools, and she broke down the door for him. 

_Only she would help someone in something as trivial as this_ , he thought fondly. She could have easily pulled him away towards the doors, ordered him to retreat to safety, but she chose to give him a modicum of hope and comfort in the midst of chaos.

Soon they reached the gates, where Cullen was waiting for them. “Move it! Move it!” he shouted, closing the gates behind them. “We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against that… that beast!” 

“Cullen, what’s our plan?” she asked.

“At this point… just make them work for it.” he spat.

Harritt came up to her worriedly. “Your Worship. Some of the villagers are still trapped. Without help, they will perish.”

“Who’s missing?” Kiana asked immediately.

“Seggrit, Flissa, Minaeve, and Adan.” he said haltingly.

“I’ll see to them. You get to the Chantry.”

“Maker be with you, Herald.”

She said nothing at that, instead began to climb the stairs in silence, as did the rest of her companions. She knew what they all thought. With the arrival of the dragon, gone were any hopes of victory. She tried not to think of what Cole had said. _The Elder One wants to kill you._

_Well, the bastard can try, but I’m not going to make it easy_ , she thought bitterly. 

From the corner of her eye, she spotted one of their men being ambushed by red templars. She ran towards the fray, her companions behind her. She recognized the woman in the armor - Lysette - and once they had defeated the enemy soldiers, she asked Lysette to go to the Chantry.

As they climbed up the stairs to the village square, they were ambushed by another group of red templars. She fought them, but she could hear cries of help from somewhere, and with alarm realized that someone was trapped in the burning hut. Moving quickly to the hut, she blasted through the door, and rushed to the fallen man. _Seggrit_. She’d never liked him, but she could not leave him to die, so she used a healing spell to awaken him. Once awake, she directed him towards the other villagers.

She came out of the hut to find the battle over. _Flissa must be in the tavern_. Already the flames licked at the roof; soon the structure would come crashing down. She ran towards the tavern, only to be blocked by yet more red templars. She cut through as many as she could, and evaded the rest. Once she entered the tavern she saw the barkeep lying prone on the floor; the woman had been trapped by a fallen beam of wood. Working quickly, Kiana freed the woman, and healed her broken leg as best as she could. Her mana was fast depleting, and she knew it.

She exited through the side entrance of the tavern and heard more cries for help. With an apologetic thought directed towards her companions - all of whom were in the middle of battle - she used the cover of stealth to slip past the enemy. She saw the researcher and the apothecary trapped near some pots. “Herald, help me!” Adan cried. “The pots are flammable! They will explode!” Again, she worked hard to free the trapped Minaeve, and pulled her to safety. She pushed the wagon with all her strength, and was soon able to free Adan. Just in time, too; a few minutes later the wagons holding the pots caught fire, and in seconds there was a massive explosion. 

Her companions helped Adan and Minaeve to the Chantry; she was too exhausted, and too depleted to heal them by herself. Just as they were about to enter the ancient building, she heard a noise from the side, heard quartermaster Threnn give out a furious cry. _More red templars_ , she thought, weary. But she followed Threnn into the scuffle, fought alongside her, and some time later, she limped her way into the building with the quartermaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I played DAI I didn't know you could save everyone, and when I found out you could I felt so guilty for letting Flissa, Adan and Minaeve die :( I've saved everyone on every subsequent playthrough, though!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven falls, and so does its Herald.

They were met at the door by Chancellor Roderick. 

_Ugh. Not him._ She saw, with some surprise, that he had been wounded. He collapsed, and would have hit the ground had Cole not caught him. “He tried to stop a templar.” Cole explained. “The blade went deep. He is going to die.”

Her antipathy towards the man disappeared. 

As she made her way deeper into the building, Cullen met up with her. “Herald! Our position is not good.”

 _Well no shit Commander_ , she thought. _You just told me to make them work for my death._

“That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon.” Cole mumbled. She stared at him in confusion. _What is he talking about, archdemon? We’re not in the middle of a Blight!_

“I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” the boy continued.

 _Frigging fuck, was that bloody thing a fucking archdemon?_

“I don’t care what it looks like!” Cullen exclaimed. “It has cut a part for that army. They will kill everyone in Haven!”

Cole agreed. The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

She knew that the creature would kill them all, even if she offered herself up to him. “How do I stop him?” she asked Cullen.

“There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide.”

“We’re already overrun, Commander! What good would it do?” she pointed out.

“To hit the enemy, we’d have to bury Haven.” As she looked at him in shock, he continued. “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

She had never believed much in the Maker, but she came close to believing in him when Chancellor Roderick spoke up, and offered a way out of Haven. A path taken by pilgrims out of Haven, intended to take them towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. In that moment, she forgave the man for all the cruel words he’d said, and the trouble he’d caused. He was going to save the village. Save her friends. Save Solas. 

She had to keep him safe.

“Will that work, Cullen? I will distract the creature.”

“Possibly, if he shows us the path. But what of your escape?” he asked her.

She said nothing, only turned her head away, a look of determination settling on her face.

Cullen understood her silence. Uneasily, he said, “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way.” His voice lowered. “Please, find a way.” She looked up at him, startled, but he’d already turned towards his men, giving them orders to follow the Chancellor and guide the villagers out safely.

A few soldiers joined her. “They’ll load the trebuchet,” Cullen explained. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.”

She walked towards the door, and he called out after her. “If we are to have a chance - if you are to have a chance - let that thing hear you.” With that, he strode away.

“Where are you off to, Kitten?” Varric spoke up. 

“Go with the others. Keep them safe.”

“Not on your life.” Solas came to stand by her, joined soon after by Cassandra. She looked at them pleadingly. “Please, you have to go. It isn’t safe out there.”

“Indeed.” Cassandra spoke up. “We will not abandon you, Kiana. You cannot make the decision for us.”

“Solas, please.” she stretched out her hand in a plea, trying to get him to understand.

 _Vhenan I will not have you out there by yourself. I will not leave you to correct my errors alone. I will not let you pay the price of your life for them._ Gently, he spoke. “The Seeker is correct, Kiana. It is our choice.”

She heaved a sigh and gave up. “Very well. If something should happen to me, I want you to leave me there and get out of the village, understood?”

He clenched his jaw at the thought of abandoning her. “We shall see.”

They exited the Chantry, having been healed fully by the mages, and stocked up on as many potions as they could carry. The small village was now overrun with templars, and they had to hack their way through towards the trebuchet. Their progress was frustratingly slow, each fight sapping a little more of their strength, until she decided it was easier to sneak around the as many of the enemy they could to get to the machine. Several battles - and wounds - later, they reached the trebuchet.

“It needs to be aligned, your Worship!” a soldier said in dismay. 

“Do it. We’ll keep them off you as long as we can. Hurry!” 

The fights now were longer, for they had fewer men. With each wave, their numbers reduced, the Inquisition soldiers falling one after the other. She had no time to think of guilt, no time to think of the possibility that Solas - or her friends - might fall. Adrenaline raced through her veins, and when she heard a cry, she turned around to see the last soldier fall mid-way through calibrating the trebuchet.

There was nothing else to do than to man the machine herself, and she alternated between rotating the gear in adjustment and fighting the enemy that threatened to stop her. Finally, finally the adjustments were complete, and she raced up the platform to launch the missile.

She froze when she heard the now-familiar roar. Looking up in the sky, she saw the dragon circling the air. With a graceful turn in the air, it started flying towards them, descending in a way that made it impossible for her to not guess its intent.

It was taking aim at them.

“MOVE!” she shouted, pushing her companions with a sweep of her hand. They gasped as the wind she’d manipulated pushed them far away, further than they could have managed on their own. She could hear their shouts of alarm, as the creature bore down on her, setting fire to everything around her. A residual cache of potions caught fire and exploded, the force of it knocking her off her feet.

There was a ringing in her ears, and her sight was fuzzy. Her head pounded, like a thousand blacksmiths had taken up residence there. Clutching her head, she staggered to her feet. She ached all over, and wished she had a healing potion with her.

Through the flames, she saw the Elder One approach her. The flames did not seem to hinder him in the slightest - he walked through them like he walked through air. The look on his face - if it could even be called a face - was furious determination. This close, he was even more monstrous than she had first thought. He was death and decay personified, and his walk promised pain and suffering to the one he approached. Apprehensively, Kiana backed away, getting ready to run. He stopped, only looking at her; but before she could take advantage of the opportunity, the ground shook and thundered, and her only escape was cut off by the dragon.

The creature was soon towering over her, snarling. She could see the hundreds of razor-sharp teeth it had, could smell it’s sickening breath. _This is how it all ends. Kiana Trevelyan, supposed Herald of Andraste, is going to end up as dragon fodder._

The dragon raised its head and roared, and she braced herself. However, being dragon food was apparently not on the agenda for the night.

“Enough!” the man-creature growled, and released a blast of energy. The magic that hit her felt very powerful, but it also felt dark and twisted.

“Pretender,” he addressed her, “you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

“Whatever you are, I’m not afraid!” Despite her wounds, despite her pain, she pulled herself up straight, and looked at it without flinching. 

“Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies.” he replied.

“What are you? Why are you doing this?” Even now, with her life on the line, she needed to know, to understand. Her thirst for knowledge would always be unquenchable.

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are - what I _was_. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the _will_ that is Corypheus. He raised a long, bony hand towards her, his fingers sharp and talon-like. “You will kneel.”

“You… you’ll get nothing out of me! I will not yield!” she started defiantly. 

“You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” He - it? - raised a sphere. It was covered in beautiful, delicate patterns, and hummed with a magic she did not recognize. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” He raised his hand again, and a pulse of red light formed on his palm. It caused her Anchor to flare and thrum madly, the vibrations it produced resulting in an intense pain. She gripped her wrist with her free hand, trying to stop the magic that wanted to burst out and escape the confines of her palm.

“It is your fault, _Herald_. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as _touched_ , what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

He curled his talons, and the glow in his hand increased. It caused her Anchor to glow wider, burn brighter, and she sank to her knees from the breathtaking pain of it. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the dragon circling her. She fought to breathe, fought with every inch of her to pull the Anchor’s magic into herself, to keep it within her. Every part of her burned and pleaded with her to let it go, to stop the pain, but she was stubborn and would not give in.

He continued talking. “And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall!”

She gritted her teeth against the pain, trying to gain a moment of coherence. “What is this thing meant to do?” she ground out.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He took the two steps necessary to get to her and reached down. Wrapping his hard, bony talon around her wrist, he lifted her high into the air, and she felt the bones there break. She hung from his grasp weakly, thankful for the surge of adrenaline that blocked out her pain.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the Empire _in person_. I found only chaos and confusion. Dead whispers.” He shook her, and she felt the bones in her arm crack. “For a thousand years, I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no one’s name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.” He brought her face closer to his, and she nearly retched from the scent of decay emanating from him. “Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was _empty_!”

He flung her away, and she landed on the trebuchet, dislocating her shoulder in the process. She thought she heard something crack, and when the next breath she drew was sharp and painful, knew it to be her ribs. 

“The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” he angrily declared.

She looked around desperately, and her eyes landed on an abandoned sword. She scrabbled towards it and picked it up with her good hand. _If he keeps talking_ she thought, _perhaps I can launch the trebuchet and save the others_. She knew she could not save herself, and it made her sorrowful. _I never told Solas how much I care_. But he was safe. Safe, and away from the corrupted creature, from this blighted dragon, and that brought her a measure of peace.

The creature and his dragon walked towards her. “So be it. I shall begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - and **God** \- it requires.”

From far away in the distance, she saw the flare, the signal that let her know that the others were safe. Her heart burst with relief. She refocused on what the creature was saying. “And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Alarmed, she looked around to get her bearings. She was closer to the release than she’d expected, and she smiled grimly at that. “Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know. If I’m dying, it’s not today!” she exclaimed, and kicked the release lever.

The chain unwound from the axle, and the missile was released into the air. They all followed its path, her with bated breath. She saw it strike the mountain above the village and exalted, saw the sheet of snow and ice rush down the mountain. She turned and began running, hearing the angry cry of the dragon behind her. She saw its shadow on the ground, and knew that it had taken flight - whether with the man-creature or not, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care.

The ice hit her, and flung her into the air - _how had it reached her so quickly?_ \- and she landed in a tunnel. The force of it knocked her breath out of her body, and she felt her pelvis and leg break. _Too much. It’s too much. I can’t bear it_ … the pain caused her mind to shut down, and she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of dialogue from the game here. I can't not use it, it's all perfection!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiana fights to return to her friends.

How much time passed before she regained consciousness, she did not know. It was dark, and the only source of light was the green glow of the Anchor. She tried to sit up, and let out a small scream when the pain hit her. She lay back, panting, trying to suss out all the damage her body had taken. By her count, she had a dislocated shoulder, a broken wrist, several broken ribs, and from the feel of it, a broken hip and leg.

And she had almost no mana left in her.

After much calculating, she figured out she had enough to spare to heal both her hip and leg. Without them, she definitely could not move further, and she didn’t think anyone would come back to look for her. _They probably think I’m dead,_ and she couldn’t fault them for thinking so. Even she could hardly believe that she was still alive. _If I want to see Solas again_ \- which she desperately wanted to - _I need to get moving_. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand gently, experimentally down her hip and leg, trying to determine where to start healing. She then sent a slow pulse of healing energy into the area, screaming with pain as she felt the bones knit together and fuse. 

She allowed herself to breathe for a few moments, to catch her breath, before attempting to heal her leg. Once again, she cried as she felt the bones heal; she felt herself edge towards unconsciousness again. She fought against it, forcing her to think of her friends; the Commander’s words drifted into her mind: _Please, find a way._

Once the worst of the pains had receded to lingering aches, she forced herself to her feet. Spying some planks of rotting wood by the side - broken, no doubt, as a result of her fall - she picked up a sturdy log and drew down on reserves she didn’t know she had to light the end of it to serve as a torch. Once that was done, she moved forward slowly, trying to find a way out.

_One step at a time. That’s it. Just one step at a time._ The distance seemed endless, but she was determined to make it. The passageway opened up into a cavern, and from where she stood, was not uninhabited.

_Demons. Sweet Maker, after all this, I have to deal with demons?_ She looked around for a way around them, but there was none. _How the fuck am I supposed to battle four fucking demons by myself?_ She stood where she was, hesitating. She knew she wasn’t in any condition to battle a wispy wraith, let alone the four despair demons that stood in her path.

_Vhenan._ She heard **his** voice in her head so clearly she looked around frantically for him. _Vhenan. Use the Anchor._

_How?_ She tried asking, but the voice would not reply, instead repeating over and over _Use the Anchor._

_Well, either I die here doing nothing, or I die battling demons._ For an instant, she wondered how bad it would be to just lie where she was and let eternal sleep claim her. Then, with a sigh, she moved forward.

The demons heard her approach, and she barely missed the blast of ice one of them directed at her. She flung out her right hand, and to her shock and amazement, the air crackled, and a rift opened over the demons. It pulled them towards and into the rift, and once they had passed through the rift, it sealed shut. She stared at her hand, stunned. _How did I do that? I couldn’t do that before. Did he do that to me? What else can I do now?_

She knew she needed to find Solas, if only to get answers to her questions.

Feeling more confident, she kept trudging forward till she found the exit. Stepping outside, she found herself… in the middle of a blizzard.

_Are you fucking kidding me._ It seemed as though fate was insistent upon her dying, one way or another. _Well fuck you. I’m in no mood to die._ Once again she moved forward, teeth chattering in the blistering cold. She’d never been so cold. Her armor- torn in several places - offered little protection against the cold. Her feet sank into the snow; her boots were soaked through with snow in a matter of minutes.

She used a heating spell to warm herself, but the warmth did not stay long. She hadn’t expected it to. It was far too cold for any heat to linger beyond a few seconds. Even her the flame of her torch had lasted not more than a few fleeting seconds; her path was now lit by the glow of the full moon, which she was grateful for. She followed the gap between the two treelines that served as a makeshift path - she was far too scared to venture out into the forest.

In the distance, she could hear the wolves howling. _Wolves!_ She remembered the Token of the Packmaster that hung around her neck at all times. Pulling it out from under her armor, she thought desperately of the wolves. _If I draw them to me, perhaps they can help me._ She shuffled through the snow, thinking of the wolves, desperately wishing for them. When nothing happened, she gave one last-ditch effort and, throwing her head back, let out a long, reedy howl.

It was the worst imitation of a howl she’d ever heard, but it resulted in something: the wolves fell silent. Once again, she let out a howl, and this time, she heard an answering call. Hope bloomed in her, and she gave a third howl, followed by an urgent “help me!”. The forest fell into silence. She waited for a few minutes, shaking against the cold, and gave up. Despondent, she began to move forward once more.

But for once, things went her way: she spotted a pack of wolves venture out of the safety of the forest, into the open, towards her. She let out another cry. “Please, help me.” They approached her warily, this new pack. They shuffled around her, sniffing her, and she fell on her knees, allowing them to see the amulet, to smell her. Once they were satisfied of her worthiness, they crowded around her, and sheltered her as best as they could against the storm. More than once she fell to the ground, completely, utterly exhausted, but they encircled her with their warmth, and brought her back with soft licks against her face. They yipped and huffed around her, keeping her company, keeping her entertained, and they gave her the will to move forward. When she fell into despair over finding the others, they howled into the night, sharing her sorrow.

Out of sheer luck - or was it fate, she’d never know - she stumbled across the remnants of a campfire. It looked like it had been hastily abandoned. _Maybe they were camped here, then the storm hit so they moved to find better shelter,_ she allowed herself to hope. Bolstered by the sight, she kept moving ahead, only to find that the wolves had abandoned her and returned to the forest. Instead of being despondent over their sudden departure, she chose instead to use it as a sign that she was near some encampment. 

Each step now was a new agony. The cold had seeped deep into her bones. She could barely feel her hands and her feet. Her lungs rattled with every breath that she took. She knew, with complete certainty, that if someone did not find her she would soon collapse and die. And yet she kept moving forward, one foot ahead of the other, one at a time. She walked into a narrow passage, losing hope with every step that she took. 

But.

She turned the corner, and saw the glow of campfires in the small, sheltered valley below her. She sobbed unashamedly, glad to be alive. With renewed energy she kept moving forward, when she heard the what seemed like the sweetest thing in the world - the voices of her friends.

“There! It’s her!” _That would be Cullen._ “Thank the Maker!” _And that would be Cassandra._ The stress of the effort caught up to her, and she fell to the ground. Moments later, she felt strong arms wrap around her and lift her up gently, delicately, as though their owner was scared of hurting her. Her eyes were closed; it was too much effort to keep them open.

She snuggled closer to them, trying to escape the biting wind. The arms around her tightened in response. “I’ve got you, Kiana.” a deep voice rumbled. _Cullen._

“Cullen?” she mumbled. 

“Yes, Kiana?”

“I’m going to sleep now.” And with that, she welcomed the darkness that had been in the periphery of her vision for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of understandable why people start thinking you're the Herald, because if anyone else faced a dragon and an ancient evil magister, an avalanche and walking for miles through a blizzard and lived, I'd think they were pretty blessed, too.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas takes care of Kiana... again.

Solas sat by her side, her hand in his, carefully observing her. He was reminded of the first time when he met her; she had been like this then too, unresponsive and in pain, and he detested it. Detested himself for it. Twice now she had nearly died because of his errors.

It had been foolish of him not to have planned in advance. After all, he’d known from what she said that the Elder One behind the Breach was interested in the Anchor - he should have anticipated the attack. They all should have. 

The moment when Cullen had shouted out that she was alive, the sheer relief that had washed through him was indescribable. He knew she was alive, for he still bore her mark, but he had watched in concern as the intensity of it slowly faded away, and had known she was close to dying. 

When she’d offered to sacrifice herself for the others at Haven, he had nearly raged at her. _These shems do not deserve it, do not deserve you. Let them burn._ But how could he? Had he not seen her aid a blacksmith recover his only heirlooms, help a merchant she disliked escape from a burning hut? Her heart was large and built for kindness, and he knew nothing he could have said would have stopped her. So he’d done the best thing he **could** do - stay by her side and keep her safe.

And, like his other plans, that too had failed.

He’d been taken aback from the force of her wind spell, had been impressed with the strength of it. The admiration had soon turned to dismay as he saw something explode in the distance, saw her knocked down. When he’d been pulled away by Cassandra and Varric, she hadn’t risen up, and his heart shrank into nothingness.

He’d wanted to stay and fight, but the others had seen the dragon move towards her and had given her up as a lost cause. He hated them for it, even as he knew he would have done the same were he in their position. But she was his _vhenan_ and the knowledge that she’d spend the last moments of her life to save him, he who was unworthy of her kindness, burned in his stomach.

They had fallen back to the Chantry just in time to join the last of the escaping soldiers. They had had to block the path behind them as a precaution to prevent the red templars from joining them, and all he could think of was how they failed her yet again. Once they’d found themselves in the wilderness of the mountains and above the treeline, he watched bitterly as Cullen sent out a flare.

His heart sang when he saw the missile arc towards the mountain above Haven, only to be crushed by the realization of what it meant. She had been alive when they had left, yes, but she would be buried by the avalanche.

Her friends were morosely silent as they set up camp that evening. As soon as he was able to find privacy, he rolled up his sleeves to observe his mark. It was there, but so faint he feared it would disappear altogether were he to touch it. He sank his head into his hands. The misery he felt was too sharp, yet not enough.

Varric approached him, a roll of bread and some cheese in his hand. He offered them up to Solas, who shook his head silently. “You need to eat,” the dwarf had insisted in a gentle tone. “She wouldn’t like you to starve yourself.”

“If she doesn’t like it, she can come tell me that herself,” he spat out. The dwarf only sat by his side, and dropped the food into Solas’ lap. “Let it out, Chuckles. You need to.” He clenched his teeth. “Look at all of them, milling around, praising their Maker for their lives. None of them acknowledge what she did. They were all too happy to send her to her death, were they not? Cullen was more than happy to have her distract the monster and his creature, but why did he not offer to go himself? Is he not the Commander? Should he not have gone? If he had, then she would be here with us.” _With me_ , he added in his head.

The dwarf tore off a piece of the stale bread with his teeth and chewed slowly. “If the Commander had gone, we all would be dead. That thing wouldn’t have been distracted by the Commander - even if the man is rather dashing - and he would have killed us to reach her. You heard what Cole said.”

_Cole. Of course._ He’d recognized that the young man was not human at all, but rather a spirit of compassion who had taken human form. The lad was able to read minds. If anyone knew if Kiana was alive or not, it would be him. He rose to his feet, intent on finding the boy, when Cole appeared in front of him.

“So much hurt, the pain welcome and unwanted. _My fault. It’s my fault_.” Solas shut his mind before the spirit could see too much into it. “Cole, is she alive?” He looked at Solas with those pale blue eyes of his that were almost translucent. “ _Too much, it’s too much, I can’t bear it… she’s silent now, I can’t hear any more_.” His heart sank.

“She thought of you” the spirit muttered. “Saw your face as the darkness crept in. Varric is right. She wants you to eat. To be safe.” He blinked. “How does food taste?” 

Solas sat and heard Varric talk to Cole about food as he ate the bread and cheese without any enthusiasm. He wanted to get over and done with it so he could look into the Fade and search for her. Once he was done, he scrambled towards his feet and walked to the tent he was sharing with the dwarf. He rolled out the bedroll, and laid himself out onto it. Closing his eyes, he immediately drifted into the Fade.

He searched for her desperately there, trying to connect his mind with hers, but he was met with silence. He asked the spirits for her help; called on his friend Wisdom, and even approached her friend Courage. Neither had seen her. Courage had taken him to the part of the Fade that lingered over Haven; there, through the curtain of dreams, he saw what had happened after he left. 

He saw her stand up defiantly to the corrupted being, saw her refuse to yield, and his heart filled with pride. He watched as the creature took out an ancient elven artifact and use it to try and take the Anchor away from her. He watched her battle his efforts, could feel the lingering memories of her pain and knew it would have been considerable for it to have left an imprint in the Fade. He shook with anger as the creature picked her up as though she were a rag doll; his anger drew several Rage demons but with a flick of his wrist he dismissed them.

The Fade was his territory, after all.

He saw her being thrown away, winced when he saw the crash. Noted with pride how she, bruised and battered, still picked herself up. Applauded her fearless taunt as she kicked the lever to release the missile. He urged her as he saw her run, to run faster so she could escape the fast-moving ice; despaired as it caught up with her and flung her into the air. He saw her land, and then break through, a wooden covering craftily hidden by the snow.

He woke up then. She must have fallen and landed there. When he ventured outside he could feel the stirrings of a blizzard in the air. _Fenedhis_. If she had survived the fall, as he suspected she had, she could not find her way to them in the middle of a blizzard. He approached the tent that served as a makeshift command center. Entering, he saw the Commander still awake, poring over a map. The man looked tired and haggard. “Commander. I have conferred with Cole, and searched the Fade, and it is my belief that Kiana is still alive. I suggest we send out a scout party to find her.”

The man shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Solas asked icily. “You were perfectly willing to let her go to her death. You accepted her sacrifice as though it was your due. You were happy to take everything she offered, and now, when you can finally do something for her, you refuse?”

The man flinched at his accusations. Wearily, he replied. “I cannot send any men to look for her, because I don’t even know where we are. Anyone I send out would end up lost. We’ve already lost a lot of good men - I cannot lose more.” He looked up at Solas, his eyes haunted. “There’s a blizzard coming.”

Solas knew what the man was trying to say. _Even if she made it out of the village, she can’t make it through a blizzard._

He spun on his heel and stomped out, cursing the utterly selfish _shems_ … and also cursing himself.

The next morning they packed up and moved to find better shelter against the storm that was sure to come. He found himself giving up hope of ever seeing her again, feeling himself shrivel up inside. Yet each time he looked at his mark, he saw it still there. Instead of using it as a marker to count down to her return, he used it as a marker to count down to her death, noting grimly how it faded a little more with each passing hour.

But even at its lightest it had still clung tenaciously to his skin… and he knew why as the Commander carried her into his tent, pleading with him to help her.

For a moment he gazed in horror at her. Her lips were a deep blue, and her skin was dangerously pale. Her breathing was shallow and slow, but her heart raced under her skin. He asked Cullen to fetch Dorian, and heated up the tent immediately. He was in the middle of pulling off her clothes when the Tevinter mage arrived. The man gasped as he saw her condition. “How is she still alive?”

“A miracle”, he replied tersely. For it was. Against all odds, against everything she had had thrown at her - she had made it out, alive. She had refused to yield to that creature, indeed, to very death itself, had refused to give up and give in. 

Her will was far greater than most of his kind. Yet again he was struck by her magnificence; it seemed as though the fates had chosen someone truly special for him. 

She gave a soft moan of pain, and he quickly got to work. While Dorian focused on heating her body, Solas focused on repairing the damage it had taken. He set the bones in her shattered wrist, and healed the cracks in her arm. He winced when he counted the number of broken ribs she had, but carefully set about healing each one. 

He’d had had to take several lyrium potions to have enough mana to heal her fully, but for her, he bore the unpleasantness of it. He noted with dismay that she had injured her pelvis by trying to walk on it too soon after healing, and with a silent apology, had asked Dorian and Cassandra to restrain her while he broke it again in order to set it properly, her scream of pain cutting deep into him.

At long last, she was restored to normal. Or to functionality, at least; with all she’d seen and experienced, he doubted she would ever return to normalcy.

He was washing the blood off his hands when Dorian sought him out. “I need to tell you something.” Dorian said, worry ripe in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Kiana has the bone chill, Solas. Without access to my books, to herbs, I cannot cure her.” His voice lowered. “It is fatal if not cured.”

Solas stared back at him in shock. He knew of bone chill, the illness that seeped in through the cold to one’s bones, from where it spread to the lungs and heart, eating everything in its way. “They will not move from here until she awakens and recovers. And she will not recover if we do not move from here.”

The mage nodded unhappily. “Cullen sent out a few scouts yesterday and today. There’s nothing in the forest but elfroot. The cure for the bone illness requires crystal grace and prophet’s laurel - among others.”

“There has to be another cure.”

Dorian shook his head. “I asked Fiona casually about it. She said the only other cures were a pinch of Andraste’s ashes, or some sort of blood ritual, neither of which are possible.”

Fiona might have thought it blood magic, but Solas knew the ritual she referred to. It was hardly a ritual, but it did involve blood, and he was certain if Kiana was awake she would not approve of it.

_The blood of an immortal heals all._

He looked at Dorian. “I will conduct more research, look into the Fade for answers. Perhaps something will be there.” The Tevint nodded, and left.

He slipped back into the tent to observe her. Now that Dorian had mentioned it, he heard the soft, sharp hiss she gave as she drew in breath, felt the edge of her aura tinged with cold. _How did Dorian notice it before I did?_ he chided himself. He placed a hand on her forehead, testing for fever. She seemed fine, although it would not surprise him were she to fall severely ill later - the cold always had delayed effects on the body, and she had walked for hours through a blizzard.

He still couldn’t quite believe that. Then again, she _had_ walked physically through the Fade, and had come out of it just fine. So maybe a blizzard was nothing in comparison.

Mother Giselle walked in. “You need some rest,” she spoke softly. “Go, eat and get some sleep. I will keep watch over her.” The elder woman had a good heart, even if she was someone who believed in the Maker, and he had some trust in her.

He walked out of the tent and was accosted by Cassandra. The Seeker inquired after Kiana, and Solas shared the extent of her injuries with woman. She gasped as she heard everything. “And she is still alive? It is a miracle!” He agreed with the Seeker. Still, he was taken aback when she placed an arm on his shoulder. “You saved her life. Thank you.”

“It was my duty, Seeker Pentaghast.”

“Maybe so. But I know none of the other mages would have had your skill. Dorian tells me your understanding of anatomy is far greater than his - and he is a necromancer.” She turned her mouth down at the last word.

_Skills learned from years spent on bloody battlefields_ , he thought. It had taught him how to heal a wide range of war-inflicted wounds, so much so he could save the limbs of those who most would have thought required an amputation.

He noticed her eyeing him curiously. “Where did you learn them?”

The lie slipped out easily between his lips. “From the Fade, Seeker. I have gazed about battlefields, and seen men fall. By studying them up close, I was able to understand their wounds. With that came an understanding of how to heal them.” 

He noted that she had accepted his explanation without question. “If you’ll excuse me, Seeker Pentaghast.” he murmured, and headed towards the makeshift mess. He spooned broth into two bowls, and took them both to his tent. Keeping one aside for Kiana, he ate his quickly before settling down on his sleeping sack for a nap. Healing Kiana had truly worn him out, and soon he drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SPOILERS!!!]
> 
>  
> 
> If lyrium is the blood of the titans and contributes to increased mana it kinda makes sense that the blood of the ancient elves could also be used for something, right? That's my tinfoil theory and I'm sticking to it...


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas takes care of Kiana.

He was awoken by Cole several hours later. The darkness disoriented him momentarily, and it took him a few seconds to understand what the lad was saying. “She’s seeking, searching, waiting for you. _Where is he? Need to see him. Have to get out of bed. Damn these legs, can’t move them.”_ When he heard that she was trying to get out of bed, Solas jumped to his feet and ran to her tent, ignoring the unpleasant bite of cold on his feet. He rushed in just to see her collapse against the makeshift bed, and chided her. “ _Da’mi_ , you should not be moving. You need to let your body heal.” _Why wasn’t there someone to keep watch over her,_ he thought irritably.

She grumbled. “I’ve been healed, haven’t I? I should be able to move around.”

“And so you will, _lethallan_. But you have been through an ordeal that would have killed many others. It has taken a toll on you. Let your body regain its bearings.” he said gently. He did not tell her about the bone chill; he did not want to cause her any worry. Plus, he had already made up his mind about how to treat her. She had conquered too much to find her way to him, for him to allow her to perish from a mere illness.

He was entitled to some selfishness, wasn’t he? When it came to her, he found himself being quite selfish.

She sighed. “How bad was it?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She shrugged, and the familiar gesture brought a warmth to his heart. “Might as well know what exactly I’m capable of.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I hope you’re not planning on doing this again.”

“Are you shitting me?” she scoffed. “Not a chance. The next time I see that… that creature, I’m going to bring it down. And its little pet too.”

From the way her eyes flashed, he had no doubt she would.

“Can you stay awake, _da’mi_? We need to get some food in you.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he chuckled. “I shall take that as a yes. I’ll be right back.” He went to his tent and reheated the broth he’d set aside for her. He found his way to the cook, and took some of the fresh bread she was baking, and found his way back to her tent. Setting the food aside on a rickety table, he slid an arm under her body - _she was so frail_ , he worried - and lifted her to a sitting position.

When he turned to bring the food to her, though, he heard a thud and the sound of her swearing. He quickly moved to her side again. “I’m sorry,” she said, a hitch in her voice, “I seem to be quite… useless at the moment.” He lifted her up again, and this time braced himself next to her for support. Cupping her cheek gently, he turned her face towards his. “You’re not useless. You can never be useless.” he said with feeling, watching her face bloom prettily with color.

He called out for Cole, and the young man appeared in moments. “Cole, can you help me with the food, please?” He nodded, and carefully brought over the cup of broth. Solas warmed it in his hands, and brought the cup to her lips, allowing her to sip slowly.

Cole watched in fascination. “Cold bones, but the mind is warm. Cold, so cold, everything hurts, but the wolf is there by her side. Where the wolf is, she is safe.” Solas tensed up at his words, but she smiled. “Yes, the wolves helped,” she agreed.

“You were very brave. You helped them. I want to help, too.” Cole murmured.

“Everyone did their part, Cole.” she replied with a small smile.

“You knew you would die, but still you went.” He blinked at her. “Oh, yes. I see. But they wanted to help, too.”

“Cole, you should let her rest. She needs it.” he said politely.

“Yes. Everything is thin and fragile,” he said looking at her, “but it will become stronger.” And then he vanished.

“Andraste’s dimpled buttcheek!” she gasped out. “Did he just… disappear into thin air?”

Solas grinned. “Indeed he did. Cole is an interesting creature. It appears he was once a spirit. Now he is neither spirit nor human, but falls somewhere between the two. He is… unique.”

She took another small sip of the broth. “Spirit, you say? What kind of spirit?”

“I believe he is a spirit of Compassion.”

She sighed in wonderment. “Compassion. One of the rarer ones. I am glad he is here.”

“You might be, but the others are not. Madame de Fer has spent a considerable amount of time trying to persuade the Seeker and the Commander that he is a demon, and needs to be killed.” Solas’ lips thinned into a straight line. “I have had to persuade them to delay any course of action. I told them he could help us in locating you.”

“Did he? The details are a little fuzzy, but I remember Cassandra and Cullen not being too surprised when they caught sight of me.”

“Yes, he told them that you were coming. He also said you were dying. I suppose he was correct on both accounts.” He lifted the cup to her lips again. “I am glad you held on.”

“How long was I out for?”

His face turned grim. “Four days. It was touch and go for a while. Fortunately for us, you are a stubborn one.”

She gave a weak chuckle. “That I am.”

They sat in silence, her propped up against his shoulder for support while he fed her pieces of bread soaked in broth. She hadn’t tried to stop him, had known she was far too weak to do the task herself, and it had made her feel ashamed. He showed no judgement, instead focusing on getting her to have as much as her stomach could hold. Once she was done, he carefully put her back on the bed. “I need to put you to sleep, Kiana,” he said gently. “I will wake you when you next need to eat.” 

She made a face. “Can’t I just mix together a healing potion with some lyrium and chug it down?”

“An interesting mixture, but one that would do you more harm than good.” 

“Fine,” she pouted, and he cast the spell over her, watching as her eyes drifted shut. He examined her once more, slightly alarmed by how quickly the bone chill had spread. If he didn’t get her the cure by the end of the day, it would reach the tips of her lungs.

The only problem was that Dorian knew of her illness. He could not cure it without drawing the Tevint’s suspicion. _Perhaps I can make him forget_ , he thought. He let out a sigh - the man had only noticed it because he cared for Kiana, and it was but natural that Dorian would be concerned over a miraculous recovery - he would not want his friend to have been exposed to blood magic.

Still, he needed to cure her quickly, and his forehead furrowed in thought as a plan took shape.

He left the tent to seek out Dorian, finding the mage in the healing tent. He was busy tending to Chancellor Roderick in a futile effort to keep the man alive. Solas waited patiently for him to finish up; a few minutes later, Dorian gave a sad sigh and rose to his feet. He caught sight of Solas and his mouth twisted into a grim smile. “He held on as long as he could. He wanted to apologize to the Herald. Now, he will not have the chance.” The man stalked out past Solas in a rush, needing to get some space. Solas followed him, and soon caught up to him. “It seems I have found a solution to the matter of Kiana’s illness,” he said. Dorian looked at him suspiciously. “Where did you manage to find the information in the middle of nowhere?” Solas only shrugged, having expected the man’s suspicions. “I searched the Fade, and came across a spirit of healing. He showed me how to draw the illness out of her bones. I will need a conduit to trap the energy - a crystal, preferably - in which I will trap the energy of the illness. Once it is trapped, I can burn it, and it will harm no one else.” he said, allowing a thread of persuasion to color his tone.

Dorian frowned. “Are you sure it will work?”

“We can only try. There is no other option.”

“I suppose something is better than nothing,” he sighed. He looked directly into Solas’ eyes. “I will be there when you perform this ritual, of course.” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Solas had not been expecting this, but he did not falter. “Of course.” He went through the possibilities in his mind. He would have to give slip Kiana the potion before Dorian arrived, or disguise its purpose. “I will gather the materials and meet you in her tent in an hour.” Dorian nodded tersely, and walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _da'mi_ \- little blade  
>  _lethallan_ \- friend 
> 
> I'm so terrible at chapter summaries! I just wanted to include some fluff, because FLUFF! Solas is terribly protective and it makes me smile :D


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parlour tricks and machinations.

“You lied to him.” Cole appeared next to him, his tone accusing. “You’re going to give her something. You won’t tell her, you’ll lie to her. She won’t like it.”

He calmly walked towards the edge of their camp, out of hearing. “Yes, Cole.” he agreed. “I have to, because there is no other way to save her.” The spirit frowned as he peered through Solas’ thoughts, and he made sure anything he did not want the spirit to know was kept safely hidden away.

Content, the spirit nodded. “You’re scared to tell them because they might kill you for it. And she might turn away from you. But she won’t. She came for you.” Cole turned and walked away towards the healing tents, muttering about turnips.

Solas sighed. Cole could have ruined all his plans, but it seemed as though the spirit would keep his secret. He went over to where the makeshift apothecary tent stood, and took several healing potions, a lyrium potion and a discarded crystal. He grinned slightly at the thought of the parlour trick he’d have to perform for the Tevinter mage.

Taking the materials to his tent, he quickly mixed together half a bottle of healing potion with half a bottle of the lyrium. That would allow her a kick in mana that would let the healing potion take better effect. He cast a spell over his tent to prevent anyone from entering; no one could be allowed to see the final step. Taking a dagger, he slowly pierced the tip of his finger and let several drops of his blood drip into the mixture he’d prepared. The mixture turned white for a few seconds, before returning to the purple it originally was. Satisfied, he poured the mixture into a clean vial and corked it, taking down the barrier spell as he did so.

He walked out of the tent, to be met by Dorian. “Are you ready?” the man asked him. “Yes. I have everything I need,” Solas replied calmly. Together, they walked towards the tent, the two men who cared deeply for the woman who lay there. Once inside, they found her still asleep. “Would you wake her?” Solas asked politely. “I must give her this mixture before I begin.”

“What is it?” Dorian asked, eyeing the glass bottle suspiciously.

“Only a mix of healing potion and some lyrium. The lyrium will fuel her mana, and allow her body to supplement the healing potion.”

Dorian nodded, and shook her gently. “Kiana. Kiana, amicus, you need to wake up.” 

Kiana opened her eyes blearily. When she spotted the two men, her face broke out into a slow smile. “Dorian! Solas! Have you come to keep me company?”

“It depends, _amicus_. What do you have to offer us?” Dorian teased.

She directed a mock glare towards him. “I should think my mere presence is more than enough. I mean, it could be worse, right? I could be out there in the wilderness, dead.”

The smile on Dorian’s face vanished. “Do not ever joke about that again, Kiana.”

Surprised, and a little touched, she weakly raised her hand to touch his cheek. “I won’t.” she said softly.

Solas observed their exchange a little tersely. It seemed as though he had a rival for her affections, and that did not sit well with him. Especially since Dorian was handsome and charming, and she already got along very well with him. He cut in brusquely, “We’re here to do a little more healing, Herald. There is mixture you need to take before I can begin, however.”

Her face fell slightly when she heard him call her by her title, and he immediately felt a little guilty. “Looks like you took my suggestion about mixing lyrium and healing potions after all,” she forced herself to joke.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Solas said easily with a small smile on his face. “It appears you were more accurate than I had thought.”

“Dorian, can you help me up? I’m afraid I still find myself rather like a newborn colt.”

The Tevint gripped her shoulders and propped her back against his chest. She tried to reach for the bottle in Solas’ hands, but her fingers trembled violently. “Allow me,” he said kindly, and brought the bottle to her lips, allowing her to drink at her own pace. Once she was done, he nodded at Dorian and he placed her back on the bed.

_Time for the parlor tricks, then_. he thought. “Kiana, this might feel a little strange to you, but I need to do it.” He placed the crystal on her stomach, and allowed his magic to cover her completely. He then drew on the Fade, the slightest burst of electricity zipped around her and through her.

“ _Aaaahh_!” she yelped, squirming. “Feels like a million spiders are crawling over me. Ick!”

He moved his hand slightly, as though casting a spell - which he was, but not on Kiana; rather, he was directing it towards the crystal. He knew Dorian wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Slowly, black smoke swirled in the heart of the clear crystal, and in a few moments, it had turned fully black. Solas picked up the crystal gingerly. “It is done.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed. “What just happened?”

“Just the remnants of an illness that had taken root, Kiana. There’s no need to worry.” Dorian soothed.

“Indeed. I will dispose of this carefully.”

“I’d like to examine it, if I may? Dorian asked curiously.

Solas shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I do not think it wise. I cannot be sure if allowing you to touch it would pass the sickness to you. It is best that I deal with it.”

Dorian seemed displeased, but nodded his head in understanding. “Of course.”

Kiana eyed the two of them curiously. “You’re not telling me something. What is it? What was this ‘sickness’ that I had?”

Solas inclined his head at Dorian. “Perhaps you can tell her while I dispose of this?” The mage agreed, and Solas left them talking softly. Walking to the edge of the camp, he held the crystal in his palm; in a few seconds, it was reduced to ashes.

With the bone chill taken care of, another pressing matter emerged - her safety. Solas knew that he could not protect her all the time, but he also knew he needed to do all he could to keep her safe. Haven was merely a village after all, incapable of providing any defense - as had been proved by Corypheus and his army.

No, he needed a fortress, somewhere where, once she was within its walls, she would be safe. A place protected not only by walls, but magic.

He needed to get her into his fortress, he decided. He needed to get her into Tarasyl’an Tel’as.

But how?

Sighing, he moved onto the next problem. _The orb_. He had no idea how Corypheus had managed to survive opening it, but he could not allow the creature to have it. He needed the orb so that he could regain his power; however he knew he could not do it on his own.

Late at night, when he was woken by the sound of Cassandra and Cullen arguing yet again, the answer struck him. _Kiana_. If he was able to manipulate the others into electing her leader, he could direct her towards Tarasyl’an Tel’as, and he could also ask her help in recovering his orb.

_You mean you would manipulate her_ , an indignant voice in his head said. He ignored it.

Satisfied with his solution, he checked in on his patient before he returned to his travels in the Fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mind keeps coming up with ideas for way later and gets so excited about those that it refuses to think about the story I'm in the middle of D: _whyyyyyyy_


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of fallen leaders, and new hope.

When she awoke, she found Mother Giselle sitting next to her. Her face felt damp, and she colored a little as she realized the older woman was washing her. She raised herself upright - Solas’ strange ritual had seemed to heal her almost instantaneously, and her strength was completely restored. She sighed as she heard the sounds of her companions’ voices raised in argument.

“Shh. You need rest.” Mother Giselle said, her face concerned.

“They’ve been at it for days,” she sighed. 

“They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

Kiana agreed privately. What they needed now was a solid leader. She mulled it over. _Cassandra would make a good leader,_ she thought, remembering the Seeker’s words - _I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around like a dog chasing its tail._

_Yes_ , she thought. _Cassandra will make a good leader. She will not hesitate to take action_. Plus, the woman was directly linked to the Divine, having served as her Right Hand. It made sense.

“If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there.” she said.

“Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours.” the Revered Mother said solemnly. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now we have seen her **return**. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trial seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What _we_ have been called to endure? What _we_ , perhaps, must come to believe?”

She gave a sardonic chuckle, aware of what the Revered Mother was trying to imply. “I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn’t die. I did not fall and return, Mother Giselle. I just had luck on my side.”

“Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they **needed** to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

Kiana gave the older woman an unamused look. _We were just attacked by a monstrosity and it’s pet dragon, and you want to attribute it to the Maker? Are you serious?_ She replied, a tad snarkily, “Mother Giselle, I just don’t see how what I believe matters. Corypheus is a real, physical threat! We can’t match that with hope alone.” So saying, she rose from her cot and walked outside, coming to a stop near the campfire. She looked around. Everyone sat by themselves, silently, lost in their own thoughts. The air permeated with fear and helplessness.

For once, she was lost, with no idea what to do. They had no infrastructure, and very limited resources. A great many people depended on them. They dared not return to Haven - not that there was anything left for them there anyway - and they had nowhere to go, no allies to help them out. She let out a frustrated huff. _After everything we’ve been through, to be stymied by this…_

From behind her, a soft voice began to sing.

“Shadows fall  
And hope has fled,  
Steel your heart,  
The dawn will come.”

She turned around to see Mother Giselle walk towards her. Her spirits lifted at the sound of the familiar song. Though she was not religious, it was one of her favorite songs, and one she had sung on many an occasion to give herself courage.

She found herself joining in.

“The night is long,  
And the path is dark,   
Look to the sky,  
For one day soon,  
The dawn will come.

Soon, her companions joined in. Leliana’s voice was particularly enchanting, and Kiana understood why the woman had been such a successful bard.

“The shepherd’s lost,  
And his home is far,  
Keep to the stars,  
The dawn will come.”

The villagers and soldiers came out of their tents, around the big campfire, all of them joining in. Their voices rang out pure and clear through the silent valley, and Kiana felt her heart swell with hope and strength. She closed her eyes, and continued singing, pouring out her fears and worries into her voice, and absorbing the hope that the song inspired.

“The night is long  
And the path is dark,  
Look to the sky,   
For one day soon,  
The dawn will come.”

“Bare your blade,  
And raise it high,  
Stand your ground,  
The dawn will come.

The night is long,  
And the path is dark,  
Look to the sky,   
For one day soon,  
The dawn will come.”

When she opened her eyes, she was horrified to see the villagers - and the soldiers - kneeling before her. _No, no no! This is not what I want!_ She knew what it meant; that they looked towards her for guidance. _I’m no Herald!_ She wanted to scream out.

She did the only thing she could think of doing - she imitated the others and got down on one knee, facing them. The looks of adoration they gave her soon turned to looks of bewilderment.

“Rise,” she said gently, and got to her feet once everyone was standing. “I kneel before no one, and shall have no one kneel before me. I do not ever want any of you to kneel before me again; all I ask is that you walk by my side, for we are all equal.”

The crowd murmured amidst themselves, clearly surprised, but they took her words to heart. Placing a fist over their heart, they vowed to walk beside her.

Solas observed the proceedings with a clinical eye, giving a derisive smile as he saw them kneel before her. _And so it begins_ , he thought bitterly. _They will treat her like a god, and the power will go to her head. Soon, she will seek more of it, and will end up like Corypheus himself_.

But how easily he forgot she was different. Special.

He gazed, stunned, as she in turn knelt before them. As she bid them to rise, and made them vow never to yield, even to her whom they considered their savior. 

_For we are all equal_ , she’d said, and from the sincerity on her face he knew she meant every word. At that moment, _he'd_ believed it.

_This is my opening_ , he thought. The others already viewed her as their leader; he knew if she asked them to follow, they would. _I can get her to Skyhold_. It would mean that the Inquisition would set up there, but it was worth it. They would have a place to grow, and she would be in a place where she would be safe.

He sauntered up to Kiana, in time to hear Mother Giselle’s words to her: “An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.” He smiled at the truth of the statement. He waited for the elder woman to depart before stepping up to Kiana. “A word?” He walked towards the outskirts of the camp, out of earshot of the others. Lighting a veilfire torch that stood by the border, he waited for her to catch up to him.

“A wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it.” 

She snorted. “She is very clever. With that song, she has managed to get everyone look at me as their leader. I do not want the power, thank you very much.”

He frowned. “Do you not want it? Most people desire an opportunity to seize power for themselves.”

“And most of those people want the power for their own selfish desires,” she laughed. “No, with great power comes great responsibility. I am not sure I could bear to let down any of the people who look towards me for help and guidance.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a ghost of a smile. “It is to those who do not want power to whom power must be given, for they are less likely to be corrupted by it. Are you completely averse to it? Surely you must be aware how they idolize you.”

It was her turn to frown. “I do not want them to idolize me. I do not want to become… godlike. No, it is best that I remain Kiana Trevelyan. Let Cassandra have that honor. She would make a good leader.”

_You are so naive, vhera_ , he thought. “They will appoint you leader whether you like it or not,” he said gently. “In their minds, you are their protector. They will continue to look at you in that manner. You should prepare yourself for it.”

She sighed. “We’ll cross that bridge when it comes. For now, though, I want to talk to you about that orb I saw Corypheus carry. I suspect it may be ancient elven.”

He tried to cover his surprise, but failed. Grateful for the cover of darkness, he asked her, keeping his voice neutral, “It is. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived.”

She swore lightly. “Not to mention how people will react when they hear the orb is of elven origin.” She looked up at him. “Not that they need a reason to blame elves,” she said sadly. “But what exactly is it?”

“They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic.”

“So… like the staffs of today?” she asked confusedly, before shaking her head. “Nope, not the time. We can talk about it later. Right now, we need to find a new place to settle. We cannot stay camped here for much longer.”

“That is why I approached you,” he said craftily. “By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. I have seen it in the Fade… there is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow… where you can operate.”

She looked at him, renewed hope in her eyes. “How far from here is it?”

“It would take a few days to get there. With our numbers, and the cargo we carry, I would say a week.”

She gripped his hand between both of hers, tightly, her face shining. “That is wonderful news! Solas, you are… “ Words failing her, she jumped on him and gave him a massive hug. He was disappointed when she let go of him a few seconds later; he had enjoyed the contact far more than he cared to admit. “I must tell the others. We need to plan. Will you come with me?”

Tilting his head, he consented. They walked back together towards the makeshift command center, her confident strides catching the eyes of the other companions, who soon followed her into the tent.

Her eyes on the map of Thedas, she roughly traced the path and expected destination. Frowning, she stared at it. It looked like the place Solas had mentioned was… in the middle of the mountains? She looked up at him, suddenly unsure. He gave her a reassuring smile. _I trust him_ , she thought.

Looking around at her companion’s faces - all save Vivienne, anyway - she began to speak. “Solas says there is a place for the Inquisition to the north. He says it is abandoned and unclaimed, and that we can use it as a place to rebuild.”

“How does he know of this place?” Cullen asked suspiciously.

“I have seen it in the Fade, Commander,” Solas replied smoothly. “The fortress has been occupied and abandoned several times over. I suspect it may have something to do with location. It is rather remotely situated.”

Kiana waved her hands disinterestedly. “Remote locations have their pros and cons. But at the moment, we cannot be choosy; we have no other option. With Solas’ help, I will scout the location. Leliana, send a few of your men with us. They can serve as communication with you. Solas and I will scout ahead; we will send back directions to you via raven, and wait for you to catch up to us with the others. Does that sound like a good plan?”

Everyone murmured their agreement. “Let me send a few of my men with you for protection, Herald.” Cullen said.

Kiana groaned. “Kiana. The name is Kiana. If anyone here calls me Herald again, I will freeze your smalls, do you hear me?”

The others laughed, and Cullen turned red. “You need all the men you can to coordinate the move, Cullen.” she said. “We will be fine. But thank you for the offer.”

Soon, plans were drawn up. Each of her companions was given a task; Cullen and Josephine would be overseeing everything, Cassandra would be in charge of the weapons along with Harritt and Krem. Dorian and Cole were to look after the injured. Sera and Varric were to keep an eye on food supplies, and replenish them wherever possible. Leliana, Blackwall and Master Dennett would keep an eye on the animals. Iron Bull and the rest of the Chargers were designated to overall duty, helping out wherever they were required. “Is everyone in agreement? Good; Solas and I shall put together what we need tomorrow. Leliana, inform your men and ask them to pack; we shall leave as soon as we can.” she said. 

Satisfied with the plan, and their hopes greatly lifted, they retired for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dawn Will Come will always be my favorite scene, not just for the song - which is beautiful - and not only because you discover Skyhold and are appointed Inquisitor (which is pretty badass) but it's also because of the conversation you have with Mother Giselle. I think she's really underrated; if you talk to her she's quite wise, and I really like her arguments for getting you to accept the title of Herald of Andraste.
> 
> And as much as I love Solas, I can't believe for a single moment that he joined the Inquisition to "fix his mistakes" or to help out. It was only because he saw it as his best chance of getting his orb back, the sly, sneaky wolf. *grumbles*


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Religious ruminations.

They set off the next afternoon, their party consisting of Solas, herself, as well as three of Leliana’s scouts. She wasn’t sure whether to count Baron Plucky as a party member, although she was leaning towards it - that raven really was incredibly intelligent.

They trudged through the snow, wrapped up as best as they could against the snow and the biting wind. Even Solas, who usually rejected the idea of footwear, conceded to wearing soft fur boots. They carried a single change of clothes, several days’ worth of rations, and, upon Cullen’s insistence, a few flares.

And their weapons, of course. Kiana had asked Harritt to sharpen her blades as best as he could; despite their remote surroundings and limited facilities, the man had done a stellar job. The first day’s scouting was awkward; she and Solas felt uncomfortable talking freely in the midst of the strangers, and the scouts had been too nervous to address her. That night, by the campfire, she spoke with them like she would any of her companions. She learned their names, where they came from; traded amusing stories with them, and listened to their stories of woe sympathetically. Solas sat by the side, silently listening, but she managed to draw him in by asking his opinion on one matter or another, and soon he found himself sympathising with Rendon, who had lost his father to apostate rebels, and had joined the Inquisition to help his ailing mother and four young siblings.

_The poor everywhere are the same,_ he thought sadly. 

The second day was easier. They were lucky enough to come across a herd of elk, and it was thanks to the Yvette and her archery skills that they managed to bring one down. When they set up camp that evening, Atilius skillfully broke down the dead animal and roasted a part of it for their supper while Solas used his magic to preserve the rest of the meat. By the light of the campfire, Kiana quickly jotted down directions and instructions to be attached to Baron Plucky while the others set up camp. They would wait here for the rest of the Inquisition to catch up. 

The three scouts took up the first three night shifts, with Kiana taking the fourth. To her surprise, however, she saw that Solas was up when she was woken for her shift. “Did you not sleep?” she asked. He shook his head. “I was able to get more details on the location of the fortress. I thought you might be interested?”

“I am, of course, but you shouldn’t sacrifice your sleep for it. We can talk about it come the morning. We have hardly anything to do for the rest of the day tomorrow, in any case.”

He gave a small smile. “True.” He gave no signs of moving, so she dropped the matter and instead focused on enjoying his company. They sat together in silence, and soon Kiana found herself humming ‘The Dawn Will Come.’

“You do not strike me as the religious type, yet you seem to enjoy that song,” he asked her lazily once she had stopped. She chuckled. “It is precisely because I am _not_ religious that I _do_ like that song,” she answered. “Most of the Chantry’s other songs invoke the Maker or Andraste, and I am not comfortable with that. This one has always given me courage and strength when I have been low and lost.”

“You say you are not religious, but is there anything you do believe in?” he asked curiously. 

She shifted a tad uncomfortably. “The Maker doesn’t need me to believe, but I do. The thought of no one at all watching out for us is too frightening.”

His face remained neutral, but inside he was disappointed. “So you are somewhat religious then?”

She gazed at the campfire, thoughtful. “Not really? I believe we all have a destiny; whether it is becoming a baker, or becoming a leader matters not. I believe that whatever sets our destiny wants us to be the best we can be. When times are hard, and I lose hope, I remind myself that it is a test that I have to overcome.” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “It’s difficult to explain.”

His heart sank a little more. “You believe that in fate? That what we are to become is set in stone, that we have no free will?”

“Of course not!” she scoffed. “Let me see if I can explain it better.” She pondered for a few moments. “It’s like this. When you become aware of yourself as a person, you become aware of the things you are good at, and the things you aren’t. Or at least that’s how it should be. Your destiny, therefore, would be to work on the things you aren’t good at, so you can become better at them. Take me, for example; I have some things I am good at. But I struggle with my temper at times; sometimes I am too reckless; sometimes I trust too easily. All of which I believe is my destiny to work on. Whether I choose to or not, and how I go about it, are decisions I make of my own free will. Does that make sense?”

He nodded, a measure of relief coming over him. “It is a very pragmatic way of thinking.”

“What about you? I do not know much about elven religion, but you have a pantheon of gods, do you not?”

“The elves worship several gods, yes.” he said carefully. “However, I do not believe that there are all-knowing, all-seeings being who look out for all of us, no. I believe that powerful men and women through the course of history have been elevated to the levels of godhood - whether deserved or not is a matter of opinion, of course.”

She stared at him in fascination. “I can see that making sense. After all, Andraste was a mortal woman.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder if Andraste remaining mortal would have changed how people act.”

“Was she not a mortal woman?”

“Oh yes, she was. I meant, what would have happened if she was just Maferath’s wife, instead of Bride of the Maker? Would it have inspired more people to rise up? That if a mortal woman was capable of accomplishing what she did, so could they?”

“They can still choose to see her that way.”

“Maybe so, but she will always be ‘favored’. Anything she accomplished is now because she was the Bride of the Maker, beloved of a deity, instead of a mortal woman.”

He could see where she was going with this. “Much like the Herald.”

She dropped her eyes. “If I am to be remembered, I would rather I be remembered as a mortal woman - albeit one who had rather dubious luck - instead of some ‘chosen one’. I would like to be remembered for all the things I succeeded and failed at. I would like people to know that I can be terribly clumsy, sometimes even tripping over my own feet on flat ground.” She sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. “I want to be me, not a Herald.”

His heart went out to her. “We are rarely remembered the way we want to be,” he said slowly. “Sometimes even things done with good intentions are twisted around to sound malicious. What matters the most is how you choose to spend your life.” He turned to see her smiling at him. “Once again, Solas, your wisdom serves as a foil for my lack of the same,” she said.

“On the contrary. I have enjoyed this conversation. You show a level of thoughtfulness I have yet to come across in someone as young as you.” 

She laughed. “I'll take that compliment and run with it, mind you. Now, back to the topic of discussion. If you do not believe in the elven pantheon, what do you believe in?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I believe in cause and effect. I believe that the things we do lead to different outcomes; they can be good or bad, but what they have in common is that you gain wisdom from either. Wisdom in itself is its own reward. I believe that everyone with free will have a right to exist. I believe that the world is not so much black-and-white as we would like to believe; the reality is much more complicated.”

She gazed wistfully into the flames. “A world where everyone exists as equals? I would like that.” She let out a small sigh. “But as you said, the reality is much more complicated. Greed, pride, ego… these are the failings of all beings, and while they exist, peaceful co-existence is not possible.”

“So you would rather live in a world where one race is lesser than another?” he asked, a note of fury in his voice.

“On the contrary. I believe very much in equality. I believe, like you, that every one of us has a right to exist. I am not, however, blind to the current state of the world. I believe that those who believe in equality need to shout louder in order to drown out the voices of those who would oppress,” she said a tad sharply. “The only thing that is necessary for injustice to thrive is for good men to do nothing. It is my hope that the Inquisition can serve as that voice. And I hope that by being a part of it I can use that influence to educate others.”

He was struck speechless. What could he say? She glared at him defiantly, as though daring him to contradict her, but why would he? 

The conversation soon drifted to other topics and before they knew it, the sun was rising. She gave him a smile and went to rouse the sleeping scouts; he stared after her hungrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether to write this chapter or not - religion can be quite the controversial subject - but I felt there was no way that Kiana and Solas wouldn't have had this conversation. It's a little bit on the shorter side, but I didn't feel like combining the subject with something else, so alone it stays.
> 
> My religious beliefs are personal, and I haven't pushed them onto either character; I've taken Solas' beliefs from his banter, and Kiana's is based on what I think she would want to believe in, given the state of the Chantry and all that she's seen.
> 
> Disclaimer - I have no idea about Chantry songs, but I'm assuming most would invoke the Maker or Andraste in some way.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting, games and songs.

They spent the day hunting and stockpiling meat in case the Inquisition rations were running low. The time flew by quickly as they made a sport of it; Yvette of course coming out on top. The woman was a marvelous archer and Kiana made a mental note to ask Cullen to maybe have her train a few of their archers. To her surprise, she was able to bring down a large buck using her stealth and none of her magic. It had been very inelegant, and she had ended up with blood all over her clothes, but the sight of her hanging on for dear life onto the buck’s antlers as it tried to flee had the others shedding tears of laughter. Solas made the most elegant kill; a graceful wave of his hand had sent a lightning bolt towards the elk, and in an instant it lay dead on the ground. She suspected that he could have easily beaten Yvette, but had chosen not to; she was glad of it, for it had brought a measure of confidence to the young woman.

She had just melted some ice to wash her stained clothing when Solas turned up. “I hope I’m not intruding?” he asked politely.

“Not at all. I’m just getting these clean before the stain sets. Is there something on your mind?”

“Nothing serious. When you have a moment, we should discuss the route ahead.”

“Oh, yes, I was going to ask you about that as well.”

The silence that fell between them was friendly. She scrubbed her clothes clean, sneaking in a small spell when she thought the scouts weren’t looking; by the slight upturn to his lips, she suspected Solas had caught her. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Blood stains are hard to clean by hand without soap, okay?” she said. He grinned.

She finished her task, and Solas helpfully dried her clothes for her. “I can’t believe you never taught me that spell,” he teased her. “Do you not remember just how awful our clothes got when we were in the Hinterlands?”

She chuckled. “Josephine had to burn them. They couldn’t even requisition the cloth for cleaning scraps because the stains attracted rats. She actually asked me to kill less people!”

They walked back to the small camp, sharing memories of the Hinterlands. After lunch, she sat with Solas and plotted possible routes on a map. “I wish I could shapeshift,” she sighed. “It would be so much easier if I could turn into an eagle or owl and make an aerial observation.”

He leaned in close and whispered, _sotto voce_. “You could learn to shapeshift, if you wanted to. You are a mage, after all.”

“Hmmmm.” He could almost see her mind turning over the idea. “But who would teach me?” she whispered back.

He thought it over. He knew how to shapeshift, could do so himself, but to offer to teach her would be to admit that he knew how to do so… and she would ask to see his other form.

Which he had, of course, been using to watch over her in the Fade. So it could not be him.

“Good point,” he said.

“I wonder if you could choose to shift into any creature, or if you could only choose one?” she mused.

“I would think it depended on how much power you had. The more power you held, the more creatures you could turn into.”

“Or the _larger_ the creature you could turn into. If I were a shifter, I’d try for a dragon.” she grinned.

“Dragons are immensely large and complex creatures,” he agreed. “If not a dragon, what would you go for?”

“Ummm, let’s see. Something reasonably big. And kind of scary, but not too much. Maybe a bear? No, they’re too grumpy. Huh, this is harder than I thought. A bird would be nice, but I think I’d get tired of flapping my arms so much. So that leaves me with… I’d say either a wolf or a lion.” she finished, grinning. “And while we’re busy fantasizing, why not both? Lion by day, wolf by night, or vice versa.”

He smiled, but it was the slightest bit forced. He wondered if she had spotted his wolf in her dreams. Most of the time he’d kept his distance, content with observing from a hidden place in the shadows. Now he wondered how she would react if he went up to her.

“Actually, why not everything? That's it. I want to shift into everything. What about you?” she asked, a cheery smile on her face.

“I would have to go with wolf, _da’mi_. Unlike you, I can only be faithful to one,” he teased. She pretended to sulk. “You’re making fun of me again.” she said, then promptly ended the farce with a chuckle.

Rendon came up to them with a missive from Leliana. She read its contents quickly, and updated Solas. “They’ve made very good speed, thanks to our route. They will be here sometime in the late morning tomorrow. Shall we press ahead tomorrow afternoon if that is the case?”

He nodded his agreement, and she left him to confer with the scouts.

By his calculation, Tarasyl’an Tel’as was a day away from where they were. Which meant it would be two or three days before they all reached the fortress, given that they had to wait for the others to catch up. He was, however, secretly thrilled that he would get to see her reaction to the first sight of his fortress.

It was, in a way, his first gift to her.

He had no doubt she would be made Inquisitor - it would be foolish for the others to appoint anyone else. She had already become a kind of legend, had garnered the loyalty of the men, had inspired faith in those who followed the Inquisition. Even if she did not see it herself, the facts were plain as day.

As was the fact that she would loathe taking up the mantle. 

But he knew she would take on the burden, however reluctantly. She was wise enough to understand that no one else would be accepted as much as she was.

True to Leliana’s estimate, the rest of the Inquisition arrived about midday the next day. Kiana went around helping where she could, from pitching tents, to rolling bandages, to just talking to those who needed a shoulder. Despite their wanting to leave as soon as they could, she had been persuaded to spend the rest of the day discussing matters with the rest of her companions. Now that a new home had been provided to them, they needed to focus on other matters. They had few resources, and fewer allies, and were not yet sure if any aid would be sent their way.

Once again, the companions gathered around the makeshift command center. “Our immediate concern is food,” said Josephine. “I fear we do not have enough in the Inquisition coffers to feed all the people who travel with us.” Kiana looked at the map and mulled it over. Pointing at the supposed location of Skyhold, she spoke. “The fortress itself might have little; Solas says it lies on a mountain peak. But the lower slopes will have animals, and hopefully, fertile ground. Fortunately, the worst of winter is over. If we send out hunting groups daily, we can gather enough meat to get by.” 

“We cannot only rely on hunting. We must be prepared for unexpected storms.” Leliana warned.

She sighed. “Yes, I’m well aware. My concern is more for the immediate days once we reach Skyhold. If we can sustain ourselves for a week or two, it will give Josephine enough time to contact a few allies.” She ran her hand through her hair distractedly. “I can ask Sebastian for help. He will not turn down my request.”

Varric piped up. “I got a few people who owe me a couple of favors. I’ll trade them in for supplies, Ruffles, if you tell me what we’ll need.” 

“My men and I can help with repairs.” Iron Bull rumbled.

One by one, the others chimed in with ways they could contribute. By the end of their meeting, Josephine’s worried expression had lifted slightly. _Sometimes, all we need is a plan_ , she thought, _even if it won’t work out at the end_. Just knowing something would be done, _could_ be done, helped to clear anxious minds and lift spirits. She caught Varric sidling up to her, and turned to face him with a smile. “My favorite storyteller! Got any new ones yet?”

“Several,” the dwarf said. “I’m still wondering if anyone will believe them. An ancient Tevinter magistrate, who breached the Veil? And who has a pet dragon? That kind of shit seems impossible.”

She grinned. “Well, you wrote about the Champion defending Kirkwall single handedly against a Qunari invasion. That seems pretty impossible to me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t really compare a handful of Qunari against a blighted magister and a dragon. Maybe one or the other, but not both.”

“We all got our own brand of impossible, Stony.” she joked.

“Stony? Where did that come from?”

She smiled broadly at him. “You called me Kitten, so I get to call you Stony. Because you’re not exactly all grim and broody are you? Not to mention the whole ‘child of the stone’ thing. Thought of it all by myself,” she said proudly, a wicked gleam in her eye.

Varric groaned. “Bested at my own game. Oh, the shame.” He gave her a once over. “You doing okay, Kitten?” he asked. “That shit you went through… “

“It… hasn’t hit me yet, you know? I’m just trying to focus on getting us to this place. Solas was kind enough to make me a sleeping draught - I don’t think I could sleep without them.”

The dwarf nodded. “Take your time. You need someone to talk your ear off, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Varric.”

She walked with him to an open clearing where Bull and the Chargers had set up a makeshift table for Wicked Grace. “You in, boss?” the Qunari asked as she approached. “I’m in, but what are we playing for? I don’t exactly have a purse of coin lying around.”

“No money, boss. We’re just using chores and duties as stakes.”

She let out a laugh. “And who decides these chores and duties?” He grinned. “The rest of us, of course. We pick a task, if you’re in you agree, if you don’t agree you fold.”

“Sounds good. Deal me in.” She heard the others squabble over various tasks, including mucking out the stables, and polishing armor. She schooled her face into a neutral mask; she had decent cards and did not want to give anything away to Iron Bull, who she knew would be reading her with his Ben Hassrath abilities. Soon, it was her turn to bet, and all eyes were on her.

“Well boys, what’ll it be? Kitchen duty?” she grinned. Iron Bull looked at her thoughtfully for a moment or two, before an evil smile broke out on his face. “Nah, boss. You lose, you got to climb onto this table and sing for everyone.” She blanched; she could give speeches in public, but she preferred to sing alone. “You’re an evil, evil man, Bull. Fine, I’m in. But if I win, you have to persuade Vivienne to dance with you.” she said with a wicked smile.

“This I gotta see,” Varric said. “Count me out.” One by one, the others dropped out as well till it was only her and Bull. Finally Bull dropped the Angel of Death, and showed her his cards; three daggers and two songs. Her face fell as she showed her hand - two knights, two serpents and a lonely song. The Qunari let out a massive whoop of victory. “All right! Gather round everyone, the boss is going to sing.” The look she gave him could have cut through diamond, but he only grinned cheekily back at her.

Sighing, she climbed on to the table, thinking of an appropriate song to sing. _Nothing too serious or emotional_ , she thought. _We need something cheery and light_. An idea came to her, and she called Sera over. She whispered her idea into the elf’s ear, to which she cheered. She looked at Bull and gave him a broad wink - he’d never said anything about having a partner.

“Are you ready?” Sera called to the waiting crowd. They gave a loud cheer, and Kiana broke out into song.

_It’s time for me to take it,_  
_I’m the boss right now;_  
_Not gonna fake it,_  
_Not when you go down._  
_‘Cause this is my game,_  
_And you better come to play._

Sera wrapped an arm around her waist and joined in.

_I used to hold myself back,_  
_Now I’m letting go;_  
_I make my own choice,_  
_Yes I run this show;_  
_So leave the lights on,_  
_No you can’t make me behave._

_So they say I’m complicated,_  
_That I must be out of my mind;_  
_But they’ve had me under rated, rated rated._

The women faced each other and sang, wide smiles on their faces.

_What’s wrong with being,_  
_What’s wrong with being,_  
_What’s wrong with being confident?_

_It’s time to break the shields out,_  
_Get their tongues tied up;_  
_Cause this is our ground,_  
_And we're dangerous;_  
_So you better back down,_  
_Or we'll end you by the night._

Soon, the crowd was singing in loudly and cheerfully.

_So they say we’re complicated,_  
_That we must be out of our minds;_  
_But they’ve had us under rated, rated, rated_

With the final chorus being practically roared by everyone, she exchanged a grin with Sera, and took a bow before hopping off the table.

“You did good, boss” Bull said as he approached her. “You got them in a better mood than they’ve been over the past couple of days. Too much stress and tension means tempers run short.”

“Glad to help,” she joked. “Just don’t make me do it again!”

He clapped her on the back, causing her to stumble. “Better bring that pouch of coins to our next game then.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She walked to where Solas stood, waiting for her. “An interesting choice of song… and an interesting companion, _da’mi_. It seems to have worked, nonetheless. The mood has lightened considerably.”

She grinned. “Sometimes, we all need a little silliness. If I sang by myself, it would have been too awkward; they would have all listened politely. Sera, on the other hand, is a mischief-maker, and well known to the people. By singing with her, I became one of them, not their defender. Hopefully, they’ll now start seeing me as a person as well.

He didn’t think they would so easily, but he didn’t want to dash her hopes. “A shrewd move,” he said approvingly. “Have you eaten yet?” When she shook her head no, he continued “To supper, then. We need an early night so we can leave at dawn tomorrow.” 

They joined the others, and supper was a relatively light-hearted affair, which she welcomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT SONG'S BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR DAYS
> 
> I dunno, it seemed to fit in well with the plot? I wish there we had a scene during Wicked Grace where everyone sang tavern songs. (and yes, the lyrics have been slightly altered).
> 
> Better yet, Dragon Age Inquisition: the Karaoke version!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff fluff _fluff_!

The final climb was arduous. The mountain air was crisp and clean, yes, but it was so thin, so sharp that it hurt to draw a breath.

“We are close,” Solas said, patiently waiting for her to catch up to him. “Once we climb over the peak, we should see it.”

It was just the two of them now. Yvette, Rendon and Atilius were scouting for an easier path around the peak; she had been too impatient to see this fortress, and had insisted on climbing the shorter, albeit more physically demanding route. She caught up to him, panting, her hands on her hips. “How are you not affected by the air? It’s so thin!”

He smiled indulgently. “It comes with being an elf, I suppose. My kind fares better at high altitudes.”

She pouted. “I want some of that. I wonder if there’s a spell for it?” she thought aloud.

“Let me try something,” he said. Placing a finger on the tip of her nose, he muttered a few elven words. When she took in her next breath, the air did not seem as sharp as it had been before. “So much better!” she exclaimed. “You have to teach me that. I insist!” 

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

They pressed on. Solas handed her his staff so she could use it for support, while he moved elegantly through the deep snow. _It’s not fair_ , she thought disgruntedly. There was hardly anything that the elf did that wasn’t elegant. _I bet he’s elegant even in bed_ she thought, and she snickered. He looked at her, and she quickly pulled her face into a neutral mask, but suppressed laughter rode the corners of her lips.

“Might I share in the joke?” he inquired amusedly.

She shook her head, turning slightly pink, and thanked the flush that was already on her cheeks thanks to the cold wind. “Just a silly, foolish thought.” she said.

“I would like to hear it nonetheless,” he said, pressing closer to her, his eyes turning warm and persuasive. His eyes did funny things to her stomach, light, airy flutters; her heart beat harder in her chest. The air crackled with attraction, and she swore she could see tiny flashes of electricity around them. His eyes were hypnotic now, and something dark swam in their depths. She yearned for it, ached to know the darkness, the wickedness that she _knew_ he kept buried deep inside him, wanted to pull it out of him over her, into her. Shaken by the force of her desire, she took a step backwards, breaking the attraction. When she spoke, her voice was shaken. “We should keep going.”

He said nothing, but she’d seen a flash of annoyance on his face for the briefest of moments. She pondered over it, wondering why he’d been so annoyed. She wanted to confess her feelings for him, but she was terrified; even though they had spent a lot of time together, he still felt so aloof at times. He could be intimidating when he wanted, cuttingly condescending to others - especially her kind - and she suspected he was not drawn towards humans. _Like me_ , she thought sadly. He was handsome, intelligent, thoughtful and wise, and was a powerful mage; she didn’t think he would see anything worthwhile in her.

Her train of sad and self-deprecating thoughts came to an abrupt end as she climbed over the peak. There, in the distance, she could see it clearly. The sight of it took her breath away, filled her with an unexplainable emotion. “Skyhold,” she breathed out in awe. She turned towards him. “It’s magnificent!”

He looked down at her, her face glowing with wonder and happiness, her eyes shining in awe. “Yes,” he said, “it’s magnificent.” Only he meant her, her spirit, her rebellious nature, the fire in her that refused to be put out. He basked in the glow of her elation, rejoicing that she approved of his gift to her. He watched her gaze at the fortress, felt her aura fill with hope and determination. He was happy, selfishly so, that it was him, and only him, who witnessed her reaction.

“It’s ancient, but it stands strong and proud. It will not bow, will not break.” she murmured. “May it teach me its ways.”

They stood in silence for a long while, shoulder to shoulder, each lost in their thoughts. “Why does it feel so… familiar?” she whispered, puzzled. He overheard her, and smiled. _Because it is mine, vhenan, and I give it to you, and your mark knows it, recognizes me in it._ ” He stood still, battling his desire to pull her into his arms and tell her the truth.

A sudden gust of cold wind broke her out of her reverie. “We should make way to the meeting point.” she said, shivering slightly. 

They arrived at the rendezvous point to find the other scouts already there. She endured their good-natured ribbing over her delay, in turn teasing them about their lack of amazement over the grand view. She took over the cooking, shooing Atilius away as he hovered around. “Allow me to dazzle you,” she told him with a wink. Rummaging through her pack, she pulled out the few herbs, vegetables and flour she’d managed to sneak away from the cook. She placed sprigs of dried rosemary and thyme over the meat, wrapping them together with twine. Digging a hole in the ground, she covered it with rocks, placed the meat in the middle of the rocks before covering it up with more rocks. She caught everyone’s puzzled looks and explained. “I’m creating a makeshift oven” she said with a grin. 

“Solas, do you think you can cast a fire spell over this?” He did so immediately, curious about this side of her. He hadn’t thought it of her. “I need you to keep heating it once you feel the rocks cool down,” she requested, an apologetic look in her eyes. He knew she’d do it herself, but didn’t want to tip off the others. “Of course,” he said.

He observed as she quickly and efficiently chopped up the few vegetables she’d brought, and made a stew out of them. _She must have planned this_ , he realized. But why? He looked on, amused, as she made a quick dough from the flour, kneading it smoothly. She caught him looking, and gave him a quick wink. Looking over her shoulder to see if all was clear, she slowly heated up the dough with her hands. He watched in fascination as the dough rose and baked. Soon, the air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, and she called over the others.

When she took the meat out from under the stones, the scent of it caused his stomach to rumble. As they ate, the scouts let out little moans of appreciation. “Glad you took over tonight, your Worship.” Rendon rumbled. “I reckon I’ve never had food this good in a long while!” The others nodded in agreement. “Glad to hear it,” she said with a laugh. “I suppose I should help out in the kitchens more often!”

The meal over, she tried to help with the cleaning but the scouts wouldn’t let her. She gave up, and instead wandered off to the edge of their little camp, staring out into the sky. She tried to follow the constellations, but soon gave up; tracing them had always hurt her eyes. She sat on a rock and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying not to think of the future.

When he caught sight of her, she looked so small, forlorn and lonely. It made him feel sad, so he made his way over to where she was, and sat next to her. “I did not get the opportunity to thank you for a wonderful meal. I enjoyed it very much.” 

She gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“You planned it, did you not?” he asked.

She let out a small chuckle. “You don’t miss anything, do you?” She shook her head amusedly. “Yes, I had planned it out. It was meant to thank you.” She looked up at him. “Without your help, I - we - would have been completely lost.” She spread out her hands. “I don’t have much to give you, I’m afraid. This was the only way I could think of to show my gratitude.”

He placed a hand on her knee. “It was more than enough,” he said, emotion vibrating through his voice. She let out a soft sigh, and rested her head on his shoulder.

They stayed like that for the longest time, the elf and his human mate showered with the twinkling light of the stars.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achievement unlocked: Skyhold.

The final trek towards Skyhold was a joyful one. Songs of praise rang through the air, laughter and hope permeated the atmosphere. Solas had become the hero of the hour; Kiana had firmly refused any praise in the matter, directing it all towards him. 

The _shems_ overcame their apprehension of him and approached in in droves to offer him their grateful appreciation. Their mage allies were highly impressed, several of them going so far as to ask him to teach them his methods. Even her companions seemed awed.

It made him deeply uncomfortable.

In his youth, he had welcomed worship and adulation, had even sought it. Pride, after all, required much to slake its thirst. It had taken him a long time, and many grievous errors to see the folly of his ways.

And yet here she was, discomforted by their adoration, shrugging off their praise like water rolling off a duck’s back. She cared for them, cared about them, but cared not for how they viewed her; content, instead, to do what she thought was right. Where lesser men would have succumbed to it, she viewed it as a yoke.

His people had needed a spirit such as hers, he rued. Perhaps then Arlathan would still be standing.

Now that they were safe inside the fortress, everyone was kept busy. Cullen set up guard rotations, determined not to be caught off guard again. Leliana’s scouts were kept busy, scouting and clearing any and all paths to Skyhold. Josephine had burned through an entire crate of candles, busy with contacting nobles for aid and support.

Her companions - well, most of them - pitched in in various ways. Sera had decided to take informal charge of the tavern. The Qunari and his men, true to their word, helped in clearing out debris. Blackwall helped the horsemaster set up the stable for their mounts, Dorian insisted on setting up a library, Cassandra oversaw the armory inspection. Varric had come through with his contacts, and over the course of a few days several dozen builders, scaffolders and repairmen came to Skyhold.

As for Kiana, she was everywhere. She visited the surgeon and helped with the sick; discussed diplomatic options with Josephine; met with the mages to get them settled in; spoke to Cullen about setting up a mixed templar-mage unit; helped to clean out the stables and paint them; played with the children and kept them occupied and out of harm’s way; helped the cooks prepare meals; cleared the peristylium of the weeds and rubble it was littered with. And those were just the things he was aware of; he was sure she had done much more.

It was no wonder she looked as tired as she did. Her eyes looked sunken and had dark bags under them, and they were dull and distracted. There was a frailty to her that was new, and worrisome.

Even after they had settled in, when Skyhold had become a pilgrimage site of sorts, drawing hundreds of refugees and volunteers, when the burden should have lessened, when she should have had less to do, her condition remained the same. He overheard Dorian comment concernedly about it one evening, and the next day she looked far improved, allaying her companions’ fears - but he knew enough of her to see through the veneer she had put on. She’d used a glamour spell to hide the telltale signs of her exhaustion.

He pulled her aside after supper. “ _Da’mi_ , why are you working yourself to the bone? You are exhausted, and you cannot last much longer if you stay on this path. What troubles you? Allow me to help.” 

She tried to brush off his concern. “Solas, look at me! I’m perfectly fine.”

He lowered his voice. “You are not fine. Your glamour spell does not hide the dullness in your eyes. Tell me what is wrong.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t tell you yet. I will, in time, I promise. I’m working on something. If I succeed, it will be one of my biggest accomplishments.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Do not tell the others.”

He pressed her. “You need someone to help you, _lethallan_. Let me help.”

“I have help. Dagna is helping me.” she looked at him. “I’m so close, Solas. Please, let me accomplish this on my own. I need to do it.”

He agreed, unwillingly. “A week more. I will give you a week more. If you remain this way after a week I will tell the others, and you will allow me to help you.” She readily agreed, and hurried to the undercroft to meet the arcanist.

Sighing, he went back to the rotunda he had claimed as his own. His wolf felt the safest there, found the lack of sharp corners soothing. He had a small room on the side where his bed and belongings were stored, but he spent most of his time in the circular room. He eyed the blank walls speculatively. He’d had the idea to paint the path of the Inquisition on the walls there - paint her path in the room. He’d asked Josephine for the supplies necessary to mix his own paints, along with limestone, plaster and charcoal for the mural he had in mind, and was now waiting for them to arrive. Planning out the fresco, he drew several rough sketches on sheets of paper.

The next morning, Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine were huddled in a corner, whispering. He watched as they called over Kiana, and grinned. He knew what was going to happen, knew of what they discussed. The five of them moved into the room designated as the war room, shutting the doors firmly behind them. 

“We need to discuss our next move.” Cassandra said.

She agreed. “Yes. Corypheus came as a surprise to us. We cannot afford to let him do so again.”

“Fortunately, we have some ideas as to his plan. The assassination of Empress Celene, the creation of the demon army. We have to keep looking into that.” Leliana said.

“I am looking into an audience with the Empress. It is a delicate situation. Orlais is in the middle of a civil war, after all.” Josephine warned.

“That will come in time. Right now, the most pressing issue is a leader, or lack thereof. We need someone to take charge of the Inquisition, to guide it.” Cullen said, directing a meaningful glance at her.

She ignored it. “I agree. That’s why I think Cassandra should be appointed Inquisitor.”

“Me? It cannot be.” Cassandra declared. “If we are to have a leader, it must be the one to whom we owe our success to. It must go to the one who has already been leading us - you, Kiana.”

“Are you mad?” she gasped out. “I am no leader!”

“On the contrary. You have inspired our men, our people. They look up to you and will follow you. They see you as their protector, their defender. It does not make sense for the position to go to anyone else.” Cullen said.

“We will be by your side as your advisors,” Josephine soothed. “You will not be in this alone.”

“You are the only one among us who can make the decisions that need to be made. You have proven yourself brave, strong and wise.” Cassandra added.

She sighed. Had Solas not warned her of this? And she, like a fool, had ignored his words, blithely thinking that she could refuse. But she saw now what he had seen - there could be no one other than her, because the people would accept no one other than her. She would have to sacrifice herself for them. “Very well. In that case, I accept,” she said, feeling the burden of command fall around her shoulders.

“Meet us by the front stairs” Cassandra said. “We will have to inform our people.”

She sighed and nodded, and immediately slipped out of the room towards the healer’s tents. She did not fully trust the new surgeon yet - the woman spoke too much about leeches and bloodletting, and she wanted to make sure all the wounded were comfortable.

On her way there, she heard Solas and Vivienne arguing over… Cole, it seemed. The Iron Lady - or, as Kiana now called her, pain-in-the-ass - was adamantly insisting the young lad was a demon who needed to be killed immediately, while Solas hotly argued that he was neither human nor spirit, and should be allowed to stay.

_Guess I’ll be making that decision soon_ , she thought. She smiled in anticipation, knowing that her choice would annoy the mage from Montsimmard.

Her rounds done, she met Cassandra at the foot of the stairs, noting the crowd that had already started gathering. Cassandra walked with her up the stairs, talking about her successes, and finally asking her to lead the Inquisition. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she said, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Say you will not make me regret this,” the Seeker said, shaking her head amusedly. 

“If you’re not sure, why do it?” she asked. _Perhaps there was a way out, yet…_

“Because I believe this is what was meant to be, that without you there would be no Inquisition.” Cassandra said, her voice thrumming with the force of her faith. It touched Kiana to know how much trust the Seeker placed in her. She turned her head to see Leliana offering her a sword - a massive sword, with the symbol of the Inquisition and a dragon forming its handle, a large ruby embedded at the bottom of the hilt. It was a thing of beauty, but it looked so heavy she wondered if she could even lift it.

Below, murmurs rippled through the crowd as they tried to piece together what was taking place.

“What it means for the future - how you lead us - that, is entirely up to you.”

She gazed at the sword for several moments, the tangible symbol of her new title and duty. She passed her eyes over the crowd, recognizing faces of friends. Her eyes sought out one person though, and in a shadowy corner she found him. He smiled reassuringly at her, and nodded.

She wrapped her hand around the hilt and brought the sword up to her face. It was surprisingly light, and she could feel the enchantment that ran through it. The crowd waited with bated breath, waiting to hear what she would say.

The words came from her naturally. “Our concern must be the order and safety of _this_ world. Not the next. I’m not chosen. I **have** chosen, and I **will** lead us to victory.”

“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra vowed. She called out to the crowd below. “Have our people been told?”

Josephine replied, pride coloring her voice. “They have, and soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?” Cassandra demanded.

Cullen addressed his men authoritatively. “Inquisition, will you follow?” The crowd roared their approval. “Will you fight?” he demanded, and the crowd shouted louder, their fists in the air. “Will we triumph?” he charged, and the crowd broke out into lusty cheers. 

“Your leader! Your Herald! Your **Inquisitor**!” he commanded, pulling his sword out of his scabbard and raising it high in the air towards her. The crowd roared, the sound of it echoing through the mountains, filling Kiana with pride and determination. The sight of the Commander, looking commanding and imposing, his face filled with power, made Kiana’s knees weak.

She raised her sword into the air. “We will not fall!” she cried out, the words taken up as a chant by the crowd below. 

Several minutes later, the crowds dispersed, and she walked with the advisors back to the war room. They were all filled with resoluteness; they knew the task that lay ahead of them was seemingly insurmountable, yet they were willing to do anything to see it through. 

Gathering around the beautiful table that held an equally beautiful map of Thedas - a gift from Marquis Durellion, who had been impressed by the tale of her bravery at Haven - she spoke the thought that was running through their minds. “We need to find out more about Corypheus.”

The doors opened, and Varric strode in. “I might be able to help with that,” he said. “Everyone acting all inspirational and shit jogged my memory, and I sent a message to an old friend. She’s crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more him, and what he’s doing. She can help.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. _If it was who she thought it was, she would kill the both of them_. “I could always use more allies. Introduce us.” she said pleasantly.

The dwarf shifted slightly. “Parading around might cause a fuss. It’s better for you to meet privately. On the battlements.”

_Oh, she was going to kill the both of them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the heck do you balance between the main story plotlines and all the other random scenes your brain keeps conjuring up? I feel like I need a troop of monkeys to write everything down.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are the Champions, my friend...

She climbed the steps to the battlements rapidly, eager to meet the newcomer. Once she’d reached Varric, though, she was disappointed to see that he was there alone.

“Ah, there you are, Inquisitor.” he said. She rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Stony.”

“Stony?” a familiar voice said. “That’s a new one. I gotta say, I like it.”

Kiana whirled around to find Hawke walking towards them, a broad smile on her face.

“Kitten, allow me to introduce you to Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall.” Varric said proudly.

She eyed the other woman warily. A wide smile broke out on her face and she pulled Hawke into a tight embrace. “You bitch! You ignore all my messages, but when Varric calls for you you come immediately?” she said, good naturedly.

“Sorry, _Kitten_ ,” Hawke teased. “You know Varric’s always going to be number one.”

“Arsebiscuit” she said, laughing.

Varric looked at the two of them in utter confusion. “You two… know each other?”

Hawke wrapped an arm around Kiana’s waist. “Oh yes. We’ve known each other for… how long has it been, Kiana?”

“Let’s see… four, five years?”

Varric was beyond indignant. “You’ve known her for five years and you never said a word? How do you know each other?”

They shared a look. “It’s a long story,” Hawke said finally.

“ _Really long_. And complicated.” Kiana agreed.

“I don’t care how long it takes, you’re going to tell me everything.” Varric grumbled.

She laughed. “Sure, you get to have secrets, but I can’t?” she teased.

“It’ll require several pints. You’re buying.” Hawke added.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.” Varric said a tad bitterly.

Once he’d left, Hawke faced her. “So… Inquisitor, is it? Or do I call you Herald?” she said lightly. 

Kiana sighed and rolled her eyes. “You call me anything but Kiana and I’ll murder you. Don’t even care if Fenris comes after me.”

Hawke chuckled. “Well, good to know it hasn’t gone to your head.”

“And if you hang around, it never will,” she said, persuasively.

“So… Corypheus, huh? Never thought I’d see him again.” Hawke said bitterly.

“Varric said you’d come across him before. I’d love to have details.” she asked.

Hawke proceeded to fill her in on Corypheus gaining control of a Carta clan and sending them after her; of being tricked into entering a Grey Warden prison; of using her blood to break open her father’s bindings, and battling Corypheus himself.

“I swear he was dead when I walked out, Kiana. No pulse, lots of stab wounds, the list. We all checked. Even the Grey Warden with us - Larius, his name was I think - confirmed it.”

“You said he used the taint to control the Grey Wardens?” Kiana asked worriedly. “That explains why we haven’t seen a single Grey Warden. This isn’t good news. Corypheus has the Venatori, the red Templars, and now the Wardens.”

Hawke told her about a Grey Warden contact she knew who was in hiding. “I asked him to investigate red lyrium. He was looking into the matter for some time, but his last contact to me said something about corruption in the Grey Warden ranks, and then he went into hiding.”

“Red lyrium, huh?” Kiana quickly filled Hawke in on how Corypheus had corrupted the templar order using the substance.

“This mess sounds impossible to clean up, Kiana” Hawke said worriedly.

“We have no choice. The Inquisition is the only thing capable of stopping him. We’re not alone, Hawke, there are lots of good people who are also in this.”

Hawke sighed. “Where do we start?”

Kiana ran her hand through her hair. “We need to meet this Warden contact of yours. Let’s find out what he knows, then we can take it from there. If the Grey Wardens are involved, it might have something to do with the demon army I saw in the future.”

“The future? What are you on about?” Hawke demanded. Kiana told her about what happened when she went to recruit the mages. Hawke let out a whistle. “I thought I kept stumbling into some weird shit, but you’ve got me beat, Trevelyan.”

Kiana gave a wry chuckle. “You can say that again. How’s Bethany doing?”

Hawke’s face softened. “Thanks to your help, she and Aveline got out safely. They’re now in Barjols. Sebastian was far nicer than he could have been; I wasn’t very nice to him in the past. But you have definitely influenced him for the better.”

Kiana smiled. “I’m glad.”

“I see you haven’t stopped helping the mages.” Hawke said. Kiana shrugged. “How can I? It’s in my blood… literally.” she joked. Hawke slapped her arm. “That was a terrible joke, _Kitten_.”

“Hush, you.” Kiana mock-scolded. “I’ll let you settle in. Have you been assigned a room yet?”

“Yes, your ambassador was very kind. She’s definitely intimidating, despite her appearance.”

Kiana laughed. “Josephine can cut you to shreds with nothing but polite words!”

Hawke grinned. “I’m glad she’s on our side, then. Shall we meet up in the tavern later? It’s no Hanging Man, but Varric tells me you’ve got some good stuff.”

“Definitely. And Hawke?” she added as the woman turned to leave. Pulling her into a hug, she whispered. “I’m so glad you’re here, sister.” Hawke returned the embrace. “Me too.” she said.

Kiana spent the rest of the day mediating an argument between Cassandra - who felt utterly betrayed that she had been lied to for so long about the Champion’s whereabouts - and Varric, who insisted he kept Hawke a secret to protect her. Playing arbitrator drained her emotionally - she was fond of both of them and it hurt her to see them angry at each other.

_Then_ she had to make the decision about Cole, and chose to warmly welcome him into the Inquisition, massively irritating Vivienne. The older mage had tried to argue with Kiana, but Kiana only reminded her that she was the Inquisitor, not Vivienne, and her word was final. Vivienne walked away angrily, frustrated that she hadn’t been able to manipulate Kiana as she had no doubt hoped she could when she joined the Inquisition.

Exhausted, she veered towards the rotunda. Solas wasn’t there, but she spotted his sketches on the table. Curious, and unable to help herself, she looked through them, exhaling in wonder at the beauty of them. 

“I take it you are pleased?” a voice asked from behind her, causing her to jump. She whirled around to face him. “Solas! You keep startling me,” she complained. “And yes, these are wonderful - I’m sorry for invading your privacy, I couldn’t help myself.” she admitted.

“No offence taken. I am glad you approve. They are to celebrate your accomplishments, of course” he said, a smile on his face.

“My accomplishments? Why mine, and not the Inquisition’s?” she asked, baffled.

“Because you _are_ the Inquisition.” he replied. “Allow me to congratulate you on your appointment as Inquisitor, _da’mi_.”

She frowned. “A lot of good men and women make up the Inquisition. It is through all our efforts that we will succeed, not mine alone.”

“You are far too modest. Tell me, what do intend to do with the influence you now wield?” he asked smoothly.

“A lot of good things, I hope. Start schools to teach the children of the poor. Work to get the elves out of alienages, bring them the equality that they rightfully deserve. Get mages to stop fearing their power, work to have them accepted by society. It’s a long road, but I’ll get there eventually.” she said resolutely.

“You have lofty dreams, _lethallan_. Do you think the humans will accept any of them?” he asked acerbically.

“It will take time, but I don’t see why not,” she said softly. “Change is inevitable. And, as you said, I now have influence. I fully intend to use it to change things for the better.”

“I wish you success, _lethallan_.” he said, his eyebrows raised.

She stared at him, trying to uncover any hidden meaning behind his words. “Thank you. I suspect I shall need it.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension. As much as she enjoyed Solas’ company, she could never quite put a finger on his mood, and doing so exhausted her. She had enough on her plate, she decided, and needed to spend time with someone less… combative. Excusing herself from Solas, she hunted down Dorian - he was just who she needed.

“Dorian! You have to save me!” she exclaimed dramatically, laughing as he swooped on her and pulled her into his arms. “Never fear, my lady! I shall protect you!” He spun her around in a practiced move, and she giggled. “So, what has shaken the mighty Inquisitor?” he asked. “My congratulations on the appointment, of course.”

She sighed. “Too many responsibilities,” she said simply. “I need my friends.”

“I can help with that. A game of chess, perhaps? I might also have something you’ll enjoy back in my room,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. She rolled her eyes. “Chess sounds perfect! Lead the way.” They walked to his room, discussing books for their personal collections and the library.

Solas watched them leave, a flicker of anger eating away at him. Ever since she’d settled into _his_ fortress, under _his_ protection, his feelings for her were all over the place. Each moment she spend away from him, in the company of other men had his stomach clenching. 

But he knew that giving in to her would mean betraying his duty, and so he clenched his jaw and watched her take the Tevint’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiana's background! How does she know Hawke? So much mystery!
> 
> (It'll be revealed soon, I promise)


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirited conversations.

He watched her in the Fade as he did every night, hidden well away from view.

For the past few weeks, she had been spending every night in the company of spirits of Knowledge and Creativity. It had started out innocently enough; she sat with them and conversed freely. However, after Redcliffe, it had turned into more. She still conversed with them, yes; but in her hands was a scroll and pen, and she jotted away furiously. He watched as she wrote something down, then showed it to Creativity; he would either assent, or trace his fingers over what she had written to correct something.

He was intensely curious, but he dared not venture too close. He’d done so one night, and she’d nearly caught sight of him. Only turning into the wolf had saved him from being caught. She had limited ability to manipulate the Fade, but she was intensely aware of what went on in it, which discomfited him. The Fade had always been his territory, and it irked him to know that there was a place in it where he could not wander as freely.

He settled down to watch her, crossing his paws. He was too far away to make out what they discussed, but he could pick up a few words here and there. She sat, cross-legged, in the middle of a serene meadow, the sun bringing out a tinge of red to her locks. She listened intently to Knowledge, then scribbled something down. Frowning, she looked over her work, then showed it to Creativity. The spirit said something, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“... requires too much energy,” he heard her say.

Soon, another spirit joined them, and he was taken aback to see his old friend Wisdom. Kiana greeted her with a warmth borne of familiarity, and he was surprised. His friend had never once mentioned Kiana to him; although, in her defense, he had never thought to ask.

He observed as Wisdom listened patiently to Kiana. The spirit then conversed with Knowledge and Creativity, who seemed to expand on what Kiana had said. Wisdom placed her hand on Kiana’s shoulder, and bid her to wait. She vanished, but not for long; she soon re-appeared with yet another spirit.

The newcomer, he did not recognize. Whoever he was, though, he had Kiana excited. She spoke to him, and use gestures to supplement what she was saying. He seemed to ask her something, and in response she showed him her scroll, giving him more explanations.

The spirit looked over the scroll carefully. He then tore apart the scroll, and Kiana handed him a new one. He seemed to draw something on the new sheet of paper, and Solas then recognized him as a spirit of Design. As he sketched out on the sheet, he addressed Kiana, stopping now and again to emphasize something. Once he was done, he handed the scroll back to her, and bid her to repeat everything he had told her back to him, which she did. He made her repeat it till she had it memorized, and Solas desperately wanted to know what they spoke about.

Finally, Design was satisfied, and gave her a nod. She clasped his ethereal hand between hers, and thanked him profusely, before turning to the others and thanking them. She was clearly well-liked by them, for they gave her indulgent smiles.

With a small puff of smoke, she vanished, and he knew she had awakened.

Kiana opened her eyes, and immediately jumped out of bed and ran to her desk. Finally, _finally_ she had the design put together. For weeks she had been struggling with the concept, trying to use Alexius’ magic to good use, and had failed at every turn. It had turned into an obsession, trying to remove the _time_ aspect from the time travel magic he had dabbled with.

She had been completely stuck with trying to find enough energy to power the instantaneous travel of a body from one place to another. Alexius had been able to use the magic from the Breach to send her travelling to time; however now that it was closed, she had to find alternatives. The only source she could think of was the Fade, and it was not enough. 

However, the spirit of Design had shown her a way. She had the concepts ready in place, had understood the theory of it, but when it came to designing the instrument, she had failed repeatedly. With his help, she now knew how to design the keystone and the _tairseach_. She scribbled furiously on the paper, terrified that the idea would vanish before she could get it in ink fully. 

Once she was done, she looked over it, satisfied. Then she copied it onto a fresh sheet, making it neater and more easier to decipher, and included notes in the margins for Dagna. Soon, that too was done, and she was too wired up to go back to sleep. Glancing out at the sky, she estimated that it would be a few hours before the sun rose. Restless, she pulled on a robe over her nightgown, and walked down the stairs, out of her chambers, towards the library. Dorian had managed to procure some interesting books on magic, and she was desperate to get started on them. 

She tiptoed into the rotunda, trying not to disturb Solas. To her surprise, she saw him sitting on the scaffold, painting one of his murals. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” she called out in lieu of a greeting. He put his brush down, and turned his head towards her. “I could ask you the same, _da’mi_.” 

“Point taken,” she said. She crossed the room to the sofa and curled up on it. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked sympathetically. He resumed painting. “You could say that,” he replied. 

She stared up at him, and thought to herself that she had never seen him looking so relaxed. In a creative mood, she itched to capture this moment somehow. She slowly snuck over to his table, and pulled out a sheet, and nabbed one of his charcoal pencils. She sat on the floor, and sketched him, drawing pleasure in the familiar rasp of the charcoal against paper. It had been a long time since she gave in to the small things she enjoyed doing. All her hobbies had been borne out of necessity - sometimes it was easier to create artwork that bore information rather than use a cipher - but she enjoyed pursuing them nonetheless. 

Once she was done, she placed the now-complete sketch back on his table. She headed for the library, thinking to borrow one of Dorian's books, then collect the artwork on her way back to her room. Once she was out of the room, however, Solas climbed down from the scaffold. He had seen her fiddling around from the corner of his eye, and wanted to know what she had been up to. 

He caught sight of the picture, and a warmth blossomed in him. She had captured his likeness extraordinarily well, he thought, right from the small scar on his forehead to the freckles on his face. He smiled wistfully at the peaceful expression on the portrait’s face. She had left it unsigned, but he didn’t care. He lifted the sheet gingerly and took it to his room, folding it carefully in half and sliding it into one of the dog-eared leather journals he kept carefully hidden away. 

When she came back, the sheet was gone, and he sat where he had been before she left, still painting. 

She didn’t need him to tell her how much he’d liked it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tairseach_ \- Irish for portal
> 
> Slightly fluffy chapter! I wish I could draw, because I'd love to be able to draw Kiana and Solas sketching together :3


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens if you take time out of time travel?

Three days later, three frustratingly long days later, Dagna was done. The arcanist had come through for her, had turned her designs into reality, and Kiana smiled proudly as she turned the flat disc over and over in her hand.

“Your plans were incredibly detailed and easy to follow,” the arcanist said in her cheerful voice. “I’ve never crafted anything like it! It was fun.”

“How many keystones can you make?” Kiana asked.

“We have enough material for eight keystones. For now, anyway. The _tairseachs_ I can make as many as you need. I think I may even have found a way to turn the _tairseachs_ into partial keystones.” Dagna said excitedly. “See, by combining this part of the rune into the conduit, you should be able to insta-travel from _tairseach_ to _tairseach_ .”

She stared at the figure Dagna referred to. _Why didn’t I think of that?_ she thought. “Dagna, that’s brilliant! What do you think will be its capacity? Can it be used for transporting goods?”

“A few crates here and there should be easy enough. It won’t take anything bigger, though.”

“What about mounts?” she asked, then shook her head. “We’ll have to test that out.”

The arcanist gave a little squeal of excitement. “When are we testing them out?”

Kian grinned. “This afternoon.” She’d already sent runners to her friends. She wanted to test the keystones first before Dagna got to work on the improved _tairseach_. She’d been careful in deciding who would receive the keystones, finally settling on Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, Dorian, Solas, Varric and herself - namely, her closest, most trusted friends, and the advisors she thought would need it the most.

If the keystones worked, then Dagna could work on the key- _tairseach_. She’d been careful in designing both, had ensured that the magic woven into them would bear only her signature. That way, they could not be replicated by their enemies, and should any of the _tairseachs_ fall into the wrong hands, they would be unable to make use of it.

She gave silent thanks to Wisdom.

They gathered in the lower plains of the mountain, out of sight of curious eyes. Her friends stood around, more than a little baffled as to why their presence was required.

All, save Solas. He knew instinctively that he would finally learn what she had been working so hard on. She had kept to the deadline he’d given her - a week, he’d said - but only just. He could, however, not deny that she looked better. Whatever she had been working at must have succeeded, because her eyes were bright once more.

“Kiana, why are we here?” Cassandra queried.

“Because I have to show you something.” she replied softly. “I’ve been working on this for weeks now, trying to get it right. I got the idea from Alexius, actually…”

Cassandra hissed. “You cannot mean to suggest you’ve been working on time magic!”

“ _Amicus_ , was I not clear about how dangerous that kind of magic is?” Dorian said disapprovingly.

She waved her hand. “It is not time travel. It is **travel**. How long did it take for us to travel from Haven to the Hinterlands? Or to Val Royeaux? And now that we are here, it will take even longer. Each time we are on the road, we waste time; time that could be better spent hunting down the Venatori and the red templars, or closing rifts, or tracking Corypheus down.” She pulled out a keystone, and held it in her hands for all to see. “ _This_ is what I’ve been working on. This is a keystone. It will allow whoever holds it to travel instantly from one place to another.”

Dorian spoke up, puzzled. “How does it work?”

She smiled triumphantly. “The keystone bears several runes. On of the runes bears a teleportation spell. The other draws on the power of the Fade for speed. A third acts as a beacon, of sorts.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Kiana.” Cullen said.

She waved Dagna, who carried the _tairseach_ , forward. “This is what I call a _tairseach_. It serves as a waypoint. The keystone allows one to travel from one place - any place - to any waypoint.”

She looked at the faces, still bewildered, and sighed. “Perhaps it is better if I demonstrate.” She directed Dagna to place the _tairseach_ several feet away, within sight of the group. She held out the keystone. “All I have to do is focus on my destination” - she vanished, and everyone let out a gasp of horror - “and I appear there, instantly,” she said, talking to them from the location of the _tairseach_.

Everyone stared at her, stunned. Dorian slowly started applauding. “By the Void, Kiana, this is incredible!” he said, awestruck. The others found their voices and joined in the praise. Leliana looked at her appraisingly. “How many keystones are there? And who will get them?”

Kiana cleared her throat. “There are eight keystones, for the seven of us here. The rest, I don’t trust enough - yet - to make keystones for them. Dagna is working on turning the _tairseach_ into key- _tairseach_ , so the rest can travel from waypoint to waypoint. Only those with the keystones can travel from any place to a waypoint. I hope that makes sense.”

Cassandra and Cullen quizzed her on the safety of her creations, and she explained, without going into too much detail, the safeguards she had set up. She handed out the keystones to her friends, giving an extra one to Leliana. “For Scout Harding,” she explained when the spymaster gave her a quizzical look. “Dagna will have the first few _tairseachs_ ready in a few days. Have Harding set them up at the new locations she travels to. It’ll make it easier for us to explore.”

“It will take a few weeks for her to set them up,” Leliana warned. 

“As quickly as she can, then. We should focus first on Crestwood and the Western Approach. There have been sightings of Grey Wardens in both regions, and we need to look into the matter.”

Leliana nodded. “I’ll talk to my agents.” 

“Cullen might be able to help as well.” Kiana added.

As they returned to the fortress, Dorian wound his way to her side. “What you have created is genius, Kiana,” he said. “I’m surprised a mage as untrained as you managed it.”

She quirked her brow. “What do you mean, ‘as untrained as I’?”

Dorian made a dismissive gesture. “You know what I mean. You keep the mage side of you hidden away. I didn’t think you really cared much about magic, other than using it to help you fight.”

She gave him a hurt look. “Just because I don’t want people to know I’m a mage doesn’t mean I’m untrained. If anything, it means I’ve had to train harder to keep my magic hidden. It means that the training I have is unconventional, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have training.” She moved away from him, wounded by his careless words.

Once in the safety of her room, she wandered out onto her balcony. She gazed at the magnificent view with unseeing eyes. Dorian’s words bothered her more than she liked. _Is that what they think of me? Just a rogue with a side benefit? Do Solas and Dorian not count me as a proper mage? What am I, exactly? Am I a mage who’s also a rogue, or a rogue who’s also a mage?_

The knock on the door broke her out of her reverie. “Come in!” she called out, making no move to return to the room. She heard Solas’ careful footfall as he approached her, and she stiffened. _Was he here to give her backhanded compliments too?_ she thought mutinously. “Solas,” she said, acknowledging his presence. “What can I do for you, _lethallin_?”

“I wanted to discuss the keystones with you,” he said, taking note of her slightly frosty tone. “But I can come back at another time, if you are busy.”

She sighed. “What would you like to know?”

“Might I ask how you came up with the concept? I sense that the spells that were used in its construction are ancient, and I must confess it fascinates me.” he asked, carefully.

“You mean, ‘how did you come up with the idea, you’re a piss-poor mage’ don’t you?” she retorted. “If you must know, I had the help of some spirits in the Fade. But you must already know that. Weren’t you spying on me?” she asked sharply.

 _Fenedhis. How did she know?_ He had been so very careful. His alarmed expression must have tipped her off, because she let out a small chuckle. “Wisdom recognized you.”

 _Ah. That made sense._ “I hope I did not offend you. In truth, I was searching for Wisdom myself, and was startled to see her in your company. You looked busy, so I kept my distance.”

She sent him a kind smile. “Thank you for that.”

“And you are not, as you so eloquently put it, a ‘piss-poor mage’. You are intelligent and highly trained, though the fools from the Circles do not recognize it. If you do not fit into their limited mold, that bears no reflection on you.”

“Mmm.” she made a non-committal sound. “Truth be told, I have begun to wonder about who I am. Magic is natural to me, but once it was not. Wielding my daggers comes naturally to me, but again, at the beginning it was not. So what exactly am I?”

“What does it matter? You are **both** , and that makes you who you are. Let the jealous tongues wag.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that as an indication I should stop brooding. Now, is there anything particular you’d like to know about the keystones, Solas? If you’d like, I can make a copy of my notes for you.”

“That would work well, thank you _da’mi_.”

“In exchange, I would love to learn more about your studies of the Fade, _lethallin_.” she asked with a smile.

_Was it his imagination, or did she her use of the elven word sound mocking?_

“I would be happy to. In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade.”

“I recall you mentioning something about needing to be more creative to find more in the Fade,” she said. “But if I may ask, how so?”

“You train your will to control magic and withstand possession, do you not? And your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.”

She wanted to ask him more about his experiences, but she was distracted by something else. “Indomitable focus? she asked, her eyes searching his.

The wicked glint in his eyes took her breath away. “Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating.” He gave her a small smirk.

 _You smooth talker_ , she thought to herself, grinning inwardly.

“I have yet to see anyone try,” she purred. “I, for one, do not think _anyone_ could succeed in doing so.” she continued slyly, noting with satisfaction how his nostrils flared at the unspoken challenge.

When he spoke next, his voice was rougher than usual. ‘I would be happy to teach you what I know of the Fade. Perhaps it is better if I show you.”

“Show me?” she gave him a puzzled look.

He smirked again. “You will have to wait and see, _lethallan_.” He took his leave, knowing that her eyes followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tairseach_ \- Irish for portal, used to refer to waypoints  
>  _da'mi_ \- little blade  
>  _lethallan (f)/lethallin (m)_ \- friend
> 
> Insta-travel, say what!
> 
> A note on magic in Thedas - you can, apparently, use it for most things _except_ for resurrecting the dead (which is different from necromancy), and teleportation. _But_ that being said, wouldn't the entire plot of In Hushed Whispers be moot, since you're not just travelling back through time, but also travelling from one part of the castle to another? So I figured if Bioware can break their own rules, so can I :P


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW!

She roamed the familiar grounds of Haven, listening with half an ear to the couple squabbling near the stables. She observed the nugs playing, admired the way the light of the Breach glinted off the snow… _the Breach? But I closed it!_ Only then did she realize she was in the Fade. As she walked towards the gates, the shadowy outlines turned solid as she watched in amazement. 

Solas was waiting for her near Seggrit’s store, a smile on his face. 

“I take it you had something to do with the location?” she asked, a wry smile on her face. “Why here?”

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.” he said, walking up the stairs to the main courtyard. She gave a thoughtful hum in acknowledgement. “That’s quite obvious,” she said, attempting to be humorous. They walked in silence to the dungeons below the Chantry building, till they reached the square where she had first awoken, dazed and disoriented, a prisoner branded with a strange magic. 

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor,” he said softly.

“I’m glad someone was watching over me.” she replied, feeling uncharacteristically shy. _I’m glad it was you_ , she added in her head.

“You were a mystery.” he said, then turned to face her. “You still are. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing.” His eyes, sweet Maker, so intense, so piercing. She could barely focus on his words, so lost was she in them. “Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I did not produce results.” She rolled her eyes. That sounded like the tempestuous Seeker, all right. She played it off with a slight chuckle. “She’s like that with everyone,” she said in a light tone.

He laughed, and the sound of it found its way to her veins, heating the blood that flowed within them. She swallowed hard, and hoped he didn’t notice her sudden discomfort.

Solas walked out of the building, knowing she followed closely behind. _Coming to Haven with her was a mistake_ , he thought. All he could think of was the first few days as he desperately struggled to keep her alive, to keep her with him. He spoke morosely. “You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?” She waited patiently, her silence an indication for him to continue. “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach.” he said, his face unknowingly reflecting the emotions that had run through him at the time.

“Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra… nor she in me. I was ready to flee.” he confessed, shame turning the tips of his ears pink. He watched her face closely, trying to gauge her mood, but all he could see was sympathy. 

Sympathy he did not deserve.

“Where would you have run to? There would have been no place safe from the Breach.” she said softly.

“I would have retreated to a safe enough distance, to give myself time to come up with a new plan.” he said, knowing it was a lie. If she had not woken, if she had not been, they would all have been doomed. “I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts.” he said, lifting his hand to the Breach in the sky.

He turned back to face her. “I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them.” He let out a sigh, feeling the helplessness he’d felt wash over him anew. “I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…”

She gasped as the Fade twisted around them, watched in awe as the Fade’s reflection of Solas guided the Fade’s reflection of her into sealing the rift, watched the familiar green glow run through the edges of the rift and pull them closer before the small burst of energy sealed it completely. Again the scene shifted and changed, and she found herself back in Haven, outside her room, the snow lightly, lazily drifting to the ground.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he said, his intense look implying something far more personal. “You had sealed it with a gesture… and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

The fierceness of the look he gave her, of the emotion in his voice had her stomach coiling into knots. Desire for him flowed through her, coated her, till she was certain she would do something absolutely stupid if she did not control herself. She tried to keep her voice light, but failed completely. “Felt the world change?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

She saw him shift uncomfortably, as though the sound of her voice affected him in some way. “A… figure of speech,” he said, haltingly. Feeling emboldened, she pressed on. “I’m aware of the metaphor,” she said sultrily. “I’m more interested in _**felt.**_ ”

“You change… everything,” he admitted, as though the confession had been forced unwillingly from his lips. His eyes held a hungry look to them, reminding her of a starving wolf. His aura spiked with something as she stepped towards him slowly. 

_Desire_. She recognized the feeling, for it echoed within her. Certain now that he wanted her as she did him, she pressed up against him. “Sweet talker,” she murmured, giving a low, throaty chuckle as he turned his head away in embarrassment. Placing her hand on his cheek, she slowly guided his face back to hers. Her eyes never left his as she inched closer and closer to his face… finally letting her lips slowly brush against his. His mouth was soft, so soft, and tasted like nothing she’d had before, but everything she’d never known she wanted. She nipped his lower lip teasingly, before running her tongue to soothe it. She let out a soft sigh, the sound of it lingering in the air.

She came to her senses as she lifted her lips from his. A sense of shame overcame her - she’d practically _thrown_ herself at him, for Void’s sake! She pulled away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

Solas’ initial surprise at her kiss instantly melted away into a deep-rooted hunger. Her lips were plush, and she tasted like berries, sweet with a subtle hint of tart. He nearly moaned as she gently bit him, and when she ran her tongue over his lips he grew desperately, achingly hard. For too long they had danced around each other, had exchanged furtive, heated looks that left him constantly needing more. Their flirtations were few and careful, but effective.

With the feel of her lips on his, his resolve crumbled. His _world_ crumbled. _He_ crumbled.

She pulled away from him, and he was baffled by the shame that washed over her face. She had nothing to be ashamed of, his mate, and he would not have her feel as though she had done something wrong. Her desire for him was always welcome, would always be needed. He reached out and gripped her waist tightly, shaking his head at her as he did so in mild reprimandment. _You cannot walk away so easily_ , his eyes said, and he knew she understood by the flush that spread across her cheeks. He pulled her towards him, his hands on her waist to prevent her from moving away from him, and he dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking entrance, which she granted with a moan. He explored her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers. All the while he reveled in the taste of her, keenly aware of the arousal that rolled off her in waves. When he pulled away, she gave him the most seductive look, and he was lost once more. He smirked, and brought his lips crashing to hers a second time, taking pleasure in the small whimpers she gave. 

When she tried to press closer to him, to fit her hips against his, he pulled back reluctantly, aware of their surroundings. Already they had drawn the attention of several desire demons, who lingered in the darkness, waiting for a chance to slither in. “We shouldn’t,” he said very reluctantly. The burden of his responsibilities settled on his shoulders once more. “It isn’t right. Not even here.” The moment he said the words, he regretted them.

He watched as shutters fell over her eyes, preventing him from seeing her real feelings, and sadness washed over him. In that instant she transformed from a sultry, sensuous vixen who desired him, to an aloof, polite woman, and he hated that, hated knowing he was the cause of it. “You’re right, of course.” she said civilly. “This isn’t real.”

He needed to make it up to her somehow. “That is a matter of debate… probably best discussed after you **wake up**.”

She vanished, and he knew was awake. With a heavy sigh, he followed her into wakefulness.

She did not come to him for a few days. He caught glimpses of her here and there, but each time he caught her eye, she would smile politely at him, and move away.

He should have welcomed the distance. Instead, the sight of her flirting with the nobles who clamored for her attention had him utterly irritated.

When she finally deigned to visit him, she was on the arm of the Tevinter mage, laughing gaily up at his face. She saw him, and immediately her face settled into the polite mien he’d come to be loathefully familiar with.

“I was hoping to talk to you, Solas. I hope I’m not interrupting?” she asked.

“Not at all, Inquisitor,” he replied, hoping to frazzle her with the use of her title. Instead, she just nodded, as though she had expected it. He watched as she excused herself from Dorian, his eyes narrowing as the mage pressed his lips to her knuckles before walking away.

She approached him, either unaware or uncaring of the tension rolling off him. “I had a few more questions about the Fade. It occurs to me you are a Dreamer, are you not?”

He nodded stiffly. 

“Fascinating. Can it be learned, or is it an inherent talent? She asked, perching her hip on his table.

“It is a talent. There are few who are Dreamers. Most of the somniari are sensitive to demons, and as such are too frail of mind to survive long.”

He could see her carefully considering his words. “How did it begin, I wonder.”

“I believe I can answer that. I have seen in the Fade that the ancient elves were the first somniari.”

“All of them?” she asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

“Indeed.”

“Hmmm.”

“Why do you ask?” Solas said, curious.

“I was curious. I’ve never experienced the Fade like what you showed me. Haven felt so real, I almost believed I was back there.” she said.

Silence fell between them, sharp and awkward.

“I apologize,” he said suddenly. “The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

Her face was carefully neutral. “Yes, you made that clear.”

He needed to get her to understand that it wasn’t her fault, her doing, but _his_ , and he tried to explain as best as he could without letting any of his secrets slip… “It is not the best idea. It could lead to trouble.”

She chuckled softly at that. “Solas, poking a sleeping bear leads to trouble. Stealing Sera’s arrows leads to trouble. I fail to see how a kiss could lead to trouble.” She pushed herself off his table. “If you do not want me, all you have to do is say so. It is your choice, after all.” She began to walk away from him, her hips swaying gently.

He gritted his teeth. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out of his mouth. “I apologize, Inquisitor. I am… unfamiliar… in these matters. Perhaps if I could have some time to think it over?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, and he hated that he could not read her face. “Take all the time you need, Solas,” she said softly. “But know I will not wait forever.” With that, she walked out of the rotunda into the great hall.

Despite his annoyance, he smiled. He recognized the streak of pride in her, knew that it would not allow her to accept him unless he was absolutely confident in his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been long overdue, I think. Woo for Fade kisses! (also, what the hell, Solas?)
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and your love! It makes it so much easier to write, knowing that there are people out there who genuinely enjoy reading all the scenes my brain comes up with :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff!
> 
> (I'm pretty bad at chapter summaries, in case you hadn't noticed)

She rose much before the first faint threads of dawn had meandered across the sky, as was her habit. It was the only time she to do the things she wanted to do. Slowly unwinding her limbs from the tangled sheets she crossed the room to enter the private alcove in the corner that served as her water closet. She filled the large bathtub with water - one of the few luxuries she’d asked for - and with a slow, tired wave of her hand heated it up. She stepped out of the thin, but surprisingly warm nightgown she wore, and neatly put them into the basket that served to hold her soiled garments. She slid into the water with a soft sigh, and tried to relax. 

Relax. Not something that came easily with the title Inquisitor.

She reached for the elegantly designed bottle that held her cleansing fluid, something she’d created herself, meant to cleanse and soothe her skin. She smiled wryly, she was a woman after all, prone to all the womanly vanities.

She rose out of the water and dried herself with the towel placed nearby. She enjoyed this ritual she had in the mornings at Skyhold; they calmed her, calmed her thoughts and worries if only for a little while. Pouring the oil richly scented with amber and orange blossom she worked it into her limbs slowly, massaging it into the parts of her that ached. Dressing herself in a rich royal blue tunic and breeches of a warm brown she walked out of her room and down the stairs to the main hall.

Letting out a small sigh and trying to ignore the cold, she found her way to the kitchen for the two honey cakes she always had to help with the bitter tasting elfroot-and-spindleweed concoction she had each morning. She was trying to get the others into it as well, but no one save Vivienne was willing to brave the taste. Picking up the trough of hot pear cider and two mugs, she walked up onto the battlements. Here, she offered the night guards a warm drink. Which she was sure they welcomed, but more importantly it gave her the chance to talk to them, to get to know some of the people she was defending, the people who put all their faith into her. Being around them gave her the strength and the courage to face the day, with all its trials and tribulations. 

Cullen found her on the battlements of the right tower laughing with the guards, and a warm glow enveloped him. He knew she did this for herself, but she would never know how much it meant to the soldiers. They knew she cared about them, and all her small kindnesses only strengthened their loyalty to her. 

He approached her, his face grim. “Inquisitor,” he spoke. She turned to face him, the smile on her lips disappearing as she saw his expression. He hated that, hated knowing that the news he had would cause her grief. “Might I talk to you? In my office, perhaps?” She tilted her head in acknowledgement, and lead the way to his office. He followed, closing the door behind them as she turned around to face him. He handed her a scroll. “The people we lost at Haven. I’m sorry.” She took the scroll from him, reading through it, and looked up with a face writ with guilt and grief. “I should have done more, Cullen. I should have save more of them. Corypheus came for me, and how many died for that?”

“Inquisi - Kiana, it wasn’t your fault. How could you have known? None of us knew who he was at the time. None of us knew what he would do. You saved so many of us. And so many of your friends, too.” He did something completely out of character and wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on top of hers. “You nearly died, offering up your life to save the rest. Kiana, you did all you could. _It is not your fault_. “

She leaned into him, taking a deep breath, then pulled away to look up at him with a shaky smile. “Thank you, Cullen. I needed that.” 

He let go and took a step back, giving her a comforting smile. “I only speak the truth.” 

Her smile grew less shaky. She sighed, and rolled up the scroll. “I should talk to Josephine about setting up a memorial to Haven, with the names of all we lost. It… it’ll help with everyone’s grief.” 

He nodded. “I’ll convene the war council later today.”

She smiled and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Commander.”

Solas walked into the communal dining room, his eyes immediately searching for Kiana. _Not that he’d ever admit it_. He reined in his train of thought, gave up on her, and sat at the table next to Varric. 

“Morning, Chuckles,” the dwarf quipped “what’s got your nug? You seem irritated and the day hasn’t even started.” 

“Good morning, Child of the Stone. I trust you slept well?”

Varric snorted. “I have a name you can use, Chuckles. Or at least come up with a better nickname.” 

Solas grinned “Since you do not seem inclined to use mine, I thought it improper to use yours.” 

Varric muttered something indecipherable beneath his breath and stuffed some bread into his mouth.

The noise in the dining hall fell in intensity, and Solas knew that the Kiana had arrived. He knew, from memory, she’d be weaving around the tables, stopping here and there to talk to the men and women who gave their lives to the Inquisition’s cause. It was well known that the Kiana treated everyone with kindness, and while some of the traditionalists scoffed at it, the majority admired that their leader felt like one of them. He could admire that. He did admire that… 

He looked up as she walked over to their table, rising slightly as she sat down. “Solas,” she laughed “how many times have I told you not to rise and interrupt your meal? We’re friends, you and I, and shall stand on no such formality.” _Was it just his imagination, or did she emphasize “friends”?_ He looked at her, hating the stiff smile on his face. “But of course, Inquisitor.” 

She sighed, and turned to see Dorian, who was seated next to Iron Bull. She grinned mischievously, and Solas felt a something twist inside him. “Dorian, I stopped by your quarters last night to borrow a book, and didn’t find you there! You cannot possibly tell me you’ve become bored of my company!” she gasped in mock horror.

“Familiarity breeds contempt, my dear Inquisitor! Consider it a refreshing change for the both of us.” he said dramatically.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the several missing bottles of the Anderfels vintage I was saving up, would it?” her eyes twinkled at him.

He grinned back at her cheekily. “I need something to bribe you with, you know! How else am I going to get you to spend more time with me?”

She laughed and nudged him with her elbow, then leaned in close to his ear and whispered something, to which he smiled and nodded.

_She is never that free and easy with me_. Solas hated it, wanted to hate her for it.

Just then, one of Cullen’s messengers came by with a message for her. Solas frowned at the thought of Cullen, and wondered why. He heard her say “Please tell the Commander I will be there shortly,” and Solas clenched his jaw for a brief moment before remembering his surroundings. “Nothing serious I hope, Inquisitor?” he asked smoothly. 

She replied distractedly. “Hmmm? No, I don’t think so. At least, I hope not. It appears some of our people are missing in the Fallow Mire. Leliana will be giving me more details, but it looks like a party will be heading that way tomorrow.” 

Iron Bull slammed his tankard on the table. “I’m ready anytime, boss!”

Solas inclined his head gracefully. “I hope you know that you can call on my services at any time, Inquisitor.” She smiled, a serious look in her eyes. “Thank you. Bull, I’ll let you know, but Solas I’d like you to join the party. I have a feeling we’ll need a few mages. Dorian, I could use your help as well.”

_Well, at least she wasn’t excluding him anymore._

He nodded, and watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her hips. Varric piped up, “She does have a nice behind, our Inquisitor”.

“Oh really?” Solas replied coolly, “I had not noticed.” Giving a curt nod to the others at the table, he rose. “If you will excuse me, I must prepare for the journey.” 

Varric put a hand on his arm, stopping him for a second. He spoke quietly, directing his words such that only Solas could hear them. “Kiana’s good people, Solas. Don’t do anything reckless.”

As he walked back to his room, Varric’s words ran through his head. After their encounter in the Fade, however, Solas didn’t know what was more reckless - pursuing her, or not pursuing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Solas. You can't help feeling for the conflicted omlette.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans in the Fallow Mire.

Kiana looked at Leliana in puzzlement. “But if the Avvars reside elsewhere, why are they in the Fallow Mire? And what could they possibly want with our men?” 

Leliana shrugged. “I believe Scout Harding is waiting for more information, Inquisitor. But I recommend getting to Fallow Mire as soon as possible if you are intent on recovering our men.” She cocked a brow at Kiana. “You do not have to go after them, you do know that, yes? They are spies, they know their job… and the pitfalls it comes with.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve told you this before, Leliana. They are our men, and we do not abandon our men. Cullen, get a group together. I would like to get our soldiers back, and set up camps to hold the area.” 

“On your command, Inquisitor”.

She glanced at Leliana again. “Any idea how many rifts there are in the region?”

“I’d say fewer than a half dozen. The region is mostly uninhabited, so we haven’t had many people affected by them.”

“We should close them up just in case. The fewer holes in the sky, the better.” _The better to piss of Corypheus_. Everyone in the room acknowledged the unspoken thought silently.

“I’ll get the others ready. Let our people there know to expect us soon.”

The Mire was dark and gloomy, and the rain never seemed to stop. The stench was… like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and Maker, after this she hoped she never had to again. She watched as Scout Harding strode towards her. “Inquisitor,” she spoke crisply, “as you are aware, our missing people have been captured by the Avvar. Their leader heard of you and wishes to battle you.”

“ _Battle_ me? But why?”

“We haven’t the slightest idea. They’re holed up in the fort on the other side of the Mire. Oh, and Inquisitor - how do you feel about the undead?”

“Is _that_ what the smell is?”

“Well, yes and no. Fallow Mire is a bog, which usually aren’t the most pleasant places to be, but the undead aren’t helping matters.”

“We’d better get started, then.” She walked over to the supply cache and stocked up on potions. Gathering her party close, she gave them a brief run down of the situation and - as she always did - offered them the option to opt out, if they so desired. Solas wondered why she did that. No one took her up on it, of course, but the fact that she asked was interesting. He’d have to ask her about it later.

After dealing swiftly, and efficiently, with a group of undead, Solas spoke up. “Inquisitor, if I may ask something?” She turned to look at him, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “I believe you’ve already asked me a question Solas, but I’ll allow you another.” 

He gave a small chuckle. “I suppose I walked into that. Tell me, why is it that you offer us the option to bow gracefully out of being in your party each time we go on a quest? Surely you must realize that none of us would be here if we did not want to genuinely offer our help.”

She was silent for a few moments, and he hurried on, “I meant no offence. I was merely curious. I shall drop the matter if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

At that, she swung her head in his direction with a small smile. “Solas, I am responsible, directly or indirectly, for the life of every person who has joined the Inquisition. It is not something I take lightly.”

“It hangs over her, swaying, swinging. So many lives, like stars in the sky, they shine. How can she protect them all? You worry for them, but they trust you, have faith in you. They know you will not betray them.” Cole murmured, his voice low and clear.

She glanced at Cole wryly. “I try hard to not betray them, knowingly or not. But it is difficult.”

“You help them, give them hope. How can that be wrong?”

She exhaled slowly. “I worry it may not be enough.”

“Anyway” she continued, moving her attention back to Solas, “I suppose that’s why I ask. To give everyone a choice. I suppose it’s for my own selfish needs? I know I cannot protect everyone, and I want to know that whoever stands with me does so willingly, and not because I’ve somehow coerced them into doing so.” She laughed, and it sounded a little forced to his ears. “I suppose you think me foolish, even weak.”

“On the contrary, Inquisitor. You offer freedom of choice, which is not a thing to be taken lightly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her relax imperceptibly. “Thank you.” she said softly.

They defeated several more groups of undead and closed two rifts before finding a sheltered cave to set up camp for the night. Cassandra set up the stones that served as a signal to set up camp to the scouts that followed behind them, and then joined them around the fire. Kiana stretched her limbs, groaning as she did so. She had several bumps, bruises and grazes - a fate shared by the rest of her team, no doubt. She took out the healing salve she carried everywhere with her and offered it to Cassandra, who took it gratefully. “Thank you, Inquisitor. Those damned corpse archers nearly turned me into a pin cushion.”

“But you are not a pin cushion, you are Cassandra. How can they make you something else?” Kiana could not help but chuckle at Cole’s naive question, but it turned to a guffaw when she heard Cassandra’s grunt of disgust.

“Cole, she merely means that had any of their arrows struck her, she would bear a passing resemblance to a pin cushion. Does that make sense?” Trust Solas to answer Cole calmly. He had a fondness for the boy - spirit, she corrected - that she shared. 

_Surely, if he cares about Cole, he cannot be entirely without emotion_. She turned the thought over in her head, examining it. _Maybe it’s just you he has a problem with_. That thought annoyed her, and she let out a quiet huff she thought went unnoticed.

_She seems upset. Why?_ Solas really wanted to know the reason behind her momentary petulance, but he knew he could not ask. Instead, he filed it away for another day.

They spend some time discussing the day’s events, and making plans for the day yet to come. Kiana offered to take the first night shift and the others settled down to get some rest. Soon she was alone with a hunk of bread and cheese, and these she ate slowly, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Her meal done, she gazed at her companions, watching them sleep. Cassandra looked so severe, even in sleep, as though the weights of the waking world followed her into her dreams. She knew Cole did not sleep, but closed his eyes and rested, something she’d asked of him. She wondered if it made a difference to him.

“Yes. It’s quieter, the voices aren’t so loud. It helps.”

“Hush now. You’ll wake the others. Rest, dear boy.” He burrowed a little more into the sheets that served as bedding, and shut his eyes tightly. She smiled at his obedience, a little surprised over how maternal she felt over him.

She peeked at Solas, even though she knew she ought not to. She couldn’t help herself. He slept, looking peaceful in repose, innocent even. A small hiss of breath escaped his lips, and she watched as his jaw tensed, and relaxed. She had a sudden urge to stroke a finger down his jawline, and press her lips to the cleft on his chin... she shook her head violently. _I will **not** go down that path_ , she thought. She gave herself a little shake, and turned to stare into the fire.

It was late in the evening the next day when the group found their way back to camp, all of them the worse for wear. “The Hand Of Korth?” Kiana muttered. “More like the fist”. 

Cassandra grunted in assent, wincing a little as the healer finished the last of the stitches. 

Cole was rather indignant. “He didn’t fight fair! He used others in his place. That’s not right!”

“Yes, dear boy,” Kiana let out a hiss of pain as the she pulled out the arrow from her shoulder, and let the healer stitch her up.“There are those who make others fight in their place. They are cowards. And unfortunately, this world is full of them.” 

Cole wandered off, pondering about cowards and their ways. She watched him ask the requisitions officer if she knew any cowards, and laughed silently at the officer’s indignant response.

“All done, your Worship. If you would not mind casting a healing spell over the wound, I can tend to the others.” Kiana waved the healer away, “Go to the others. I believe some of the scouts need your skills more than I do.” She would have helped them herself, but she was very drained, the fight having taken more out of her than she’d expected. With a bow, the healer left to the tent that housed the injured scouts they’d rescued. She was happy she’d insisted on going after them. She recalled the surprised wonder of the scouts when they found out she’d come for them. 

_I might not be able to save everyone, but I have to help the ones I can_ , she thought.

Solas watched her through narrowed eyes, aware that she hadn’t cast the healing spell yet. _How she manages to lose herself in her thoughts so easily I’ll never know_ , he thought, annoyed. He shifted closer to her, and placed his arm over the wound, ignoring her protests. “Allow me,” he said smoothly, feeling the waves of his magic wash over and slide into her skin. “You were lost in thought. We did well today - those scouts will not forget your actions.” 

She resigned herself to his touch and relaxed her shoulders. “It was my duty, Solas. They have helped our cause, we cannot abandon them when they need our aid.” 

He finished the spell in silence, and moved onto the next. _Mythal, she had taken one too many arrows. Why couldn’t she just focus on keeping herself safe instead of trying to do everything?_ He only noticed the spark of anger that accompanied the thought when she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and tamped it down immediately. “Am I hurting you?” he inquired a tad guiltily.

“Oh, no, it was a little too hot before but it’s fine now.” 

He finished up, and gave her a friendly pat on the back. “That takes care of it. You should get some rest, it has been a very tiring day.” 

She smiled in gratitude, “Thank you, Solas. Can I help you in any way?” He shook his head to decline her offer. 

“Very well, but if you need anything, please let me know. For now, this salve will help soothe the bruises. Not as effective as healing magic, but it’ll spare you from spending mana when you’re already so tired.” 

He took it from her. Opening the small pot, he dipped his fingers in the salve and rubbed some onto his aching ribs. Suddenly aware he’d lifted his tunic when she was sitting next to him, his eyes flew to hers. She was grinning impishly. “Let me know if you need help getting some on your back! I’d be happy to offer my services.” With a mischievous wink, she set off in search for rations, leaving him gaping in disbelief behind.

_Did she just flirt with me?_ After days of excrutiating politeness, it came as a welcome surprise.

“If you are not comfortable with the Inquisitor’s behaviour towards you Solas, all you need to do is mention it to her and she will cease. It will not offend her.”

“Nothing of the sort, Seeker. I was merely caught off guard momentarily. It is good to see the Inquisitor in high spirits for a change.”

“Yes. She has had a hard time after Haven. She has not been sleeping well, though she hides it from us. There are many things on her mind - though that is to be expected, I suppose.”

Solas nodded. 

“I feel for her sometimes. It must be terribly difficult, making the kind of decisions she does, and knowing the fate of Thedas rests on your shoulders.” Cassandra glanced over to where Kiana was sitting with the rescued scouts, a sympathetic look on her face. “Despite the show she makes of being cheery and positive, Kiana is a lonely woman.”

Solas’ eyes drifted over to her as he listened to the Seeker’s words. He’d never thought of Kiana as lonely. She made friends wherever she went, made people smile and laugh. She seemed to make the very air around her bright and positive, how could she be lonely?

She caught him looking at her and beckoned him over cheerily. “Solas! Join us, and tell them all about how you knocked out that defender you didn’t even know was standing behind you!” 

His refusal was on his lips, but her smile wrapped around him, and the strange feeling around his heart had him smiling back in reply and walking over to where she was. “Well, as I recall, I was not entirely unaware, Inquisitor. I just… lost track of him and he turned up behind me. I have to thank my staff for catching him before he caught me!” He accepted the plate of food that she handed to him, and joined in the camaraderie. 

_It was nice to not feel so alone for once_. He glanced in Kiana’s direction, noting how she wrapped her hands around her mug of cider, the arch of her throat when she threw her head back in laughter, how her teeth gleamed in the firelight…and he knew that he had fallen.

He needed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might seem a little frustrating at how slow Solas is taking matters, but I'm trying to capture how reluctant and reticent he is about 'complicating matters' (in his view). 
> 
> Don't worry though, things will start perking up soon!
> 
> As always, thank you bunches for reading! :D


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas plays the part of a Peeping Tom, while Kiana puts on a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dirty, NSFW thoughts. Tsk, tsk.

When they returned to Skyhold, Hawke was there to greet them at the gates. She began to reach out to pull Kiana into a hug when the smell hit her, causing her to back away rapidly.

Kiana looked at her sourly. “Imagine having to travel like this,” she grumbled.

Hawke tried to hide her laughter, but failed. “Maker’s balls, what did you do, fornicate with the undead?”

“Oh, ha ha. Laugh all you want, Hawke, but there will be consequences,” Kiana threatened. 

“You’ll need to burn those clothes, Inquisitor. Someplace far away from Skyhold, I hope. Can you imagine what would happen were the smell to spread through the fortress?” Hawke chuckled.

Kiana caught the a few of the soldiers wincing, and rolled her eyes. “I’m going to take a bath,” she announced, when Cullen approached her. “Uh, Inquisitor? It might be… easier… if you, uhhh… bathed before you entered the fortress,” Cullen stammered out blushing.

“ _Andraste’s tits_ , fine. We need soap, towels, a bathtub and a change of clothes. For each of us. If even one of those is missing I promise I’ll rub these dirty clothes of mine along every wall here,” she threatened.

Half an hour later, she sank into the bathtub, the snow turned into steaming hot water. Cocooned by the privacy spell she’d cast, she began to clean her skin with the soap, sighing with relief as the terrible smell began to disappear.

Once clean, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel, shivering as the cold air hit her skin. She was in the middle of draining her bathtub when something prickled the back of her neck. She turned around to find Solas staring at her, hunger etched on his face. His eyes caught hers, and she could not but marvel at how they _glinted_. She stood proudly, unashamed at being caught like this, and waited to see what he would do next. He took a step forward, his eyes calculating, and her mouth twisted into a challenging smirk. _Come get me if you dare_ , she thought, and knew by his tremble that he’d understood.

“Inquisitor?” The voice shattered the spell between them. She watched helplessly as he turned and walked away, frowning as Cassandra walked into her field of vision. “Why are you not dressed yet?” the Seeker demanded.

“I was about to.” she said. “If I may have some privacy?” Cassandra nodded and moved away.

She knew Solas still lingered amidst the trees, watching her. _Well, if he wants a show…_

She dropped her towel to the ground in a single, graceful motion, her back facing him. Picking up her smallclothes, she slowly pulled them on, making sure to smooth the material over the curves of her hips and ass. She moved onto the breastband, she wound it around her breasts equally slowly, stopping now and again to adjust the material against the lush globes - not that he could see, of course, but she was sure his imagination would fill in any gaps. She pulled on her leggings with a soft, indulgent sigh, bending to adjust the fit near her ankles. Finally, she pulled her tunic on, then turning to face where she knew he stood, adjusted the cloth across her breasts and her hips. With a flick of her wrist, her soiled clothes and the towel burned to ashes. 

She walked away slowly, allowing her hips to sway seductively, a wicked smirk on her face.

Solas hadn’t meant to intrude on her privacy. Or so he told himself. He’d heard the sound of water splashing, heard her soft sighs and moans, and _could not resist_ having a look. He was no perverted voyeur, and allowed her to finish her ablations in peace; he arrived in time to find her wrapped up in a towel, the material clinging to her curves, beads of water running down her body… 

He swallowed, hard. Her body was _so much more_ than he’d ever imagined. All he wanted to do was to stride over to her, to rip the cloth away from her so he could run his hands over her skin before dragging her deep into the darkness of the forest and taking her… 

She turned around, and saw him. He had a moment of shame at being caught staring, but her eyes held no judgement.

Instead, she stood proudly, her eyes heated in desire, her lips twisted in challenge. _Come get me_ , she seemed to say. He took a step forward, waiting to see if she would flee, if she would raise an alarm. She only tilted her head to the side, her smile turning positively wicked.

He needed to taste her. He needed to touch her. He needed to have her… 

Cassandra’s voice broke the silence of the forest, and he cursed the Seeker in a hundred different ways, slinking back into the forest. Out of sight, yes, but not so far he could not see her.

When the Seeker had left, she began to dress. His mouth went bone dry as she dropped the towel, as he gazed upon the smooth skin of her back, saw the dip in her waist, the flare of her hips. Her buttocks were perfect, heart shaped and firm, and he _ached_ to dip his tongue into that alluring dimple at the bottom of her spine. He had to bite his lip to suppress the moan that threatened to work its way out as he saw her pull on her smalls, as she ran her slender fingers over the curve of her hips. He watched her wrap her breastband, and could imagine her adjust the cloth over the glorious soft globes each time she wiggled. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes narrowed into slits; he began to resemble more of the animal whose name he shared.

When she bent over to adjust her leggings, it took all the willpower he’d accumulated to stop himself from taking her. He could picture himself gripping her hips as he plunged into her, could _see_ how her back would arch with pleasure, could almost hear her moans.

He shifted uncomfortably, his manhood painfully hard. But he continued to watch.

Finally, now turning to face where he stood, she pulled on the simple tunic, and he thought she could not make the action of wearing it enticing. _How wrong he was_. He could hear the soft rasp of the material rubbing against her skin, and his mind took him to a dark place, where she lay under him, her hands and feet bound with silk. She adjusted the material over her breasts and hips, drawing attention to her _beautiful, wonderful, **sinful**_ curves, and he could feel the wetness dripping from his erection.

He watched as she burned her soiled clothes, as she gave a soft sigh and walked to join the others, her hips swaying, and his nails dug into his skin to stop himself from chasing after her, from wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her deep into the heart of the forest and taking her in every way possible till her skin was coated with the scent of him. He groaned and pulled himself out of his breeches and gave in to the lust that fogged his mind. He barely lasted a few minutes, too wound up in desire, in desperation.

Even as his seed poured into the ground at his feet, he knew that he would only be truly sated once he was sheathed in her.

Just as he knew it _would_ happen.

And soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... wanted to have a practice chapter for smut. This is the result. #sorrynotsorry #maybeIamalittlesorry #cantheygetaroomalready


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiana can't help teasing Solas.

She was seated across Hawke and Varric, a tankard of mead in her hand and a smile on her face as Varric recounted yet another Hawke-adventure story.

She rather envied Hawke her friendship with the dwarf.

“So, Kiana, you never really told me about how you know Hawke.” Varric said, his tale over.

She exchanged a look with Hawke, who shrugged. _This is up to you_ , her posture indicated.

“I, ahhh, can’t tell you too much, but I will say that I was helping Hawke with some, uhhh, mage-related issues.” she said vaguely.

The dwarf raised his eyebrows. “This have anything to do with Anders?” he drawled. 

“No!” Hawke spat out. “No,” she said, calmer.

Kiana agreed. “Nothing to do with him, or blood mages. Just helping out a few of the defenseless.”

“Why all the secrecy? The mages are with the Inquisition, the templars have gone crazy. It’s not like your past can change things.” Varric said, his interest piqued.

“Maybe not, but as Inquisitor, I have to project a certain image… as Josephine keeps telling me over and over,” she groaned. “Besides, it isn’t exactly fair that I tell you and not the rest, right?” she grinned.

“But they don’t even know that you know Hawke!” he protested. “If anyone deserves to know, it’s me. Something tells me it’s going to be a great story.”

Hawke laughed. “Which you’ll promptly turn into your next bestseller, make tons of gold from it, leaving us penniless and destitute.”

“Someone’s got to make money,” he said, shamelessly.

“Speaking of money… you’re involved with the Merchant’s Guild, right? Do you think you can handle my money? You know, invest it in the right places, things like that?” she asked, her eyes suddenly intent.

“You’re going to trust me with your money, Kitten? I’m the least dwarf-y dwarf I know.”

“Varric, you’re the smartest sonofabitch I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Of course I trust you.”

“And here I thought you kept me around as your unofficial biographer,” he joked. “Let me know how much we’re dealing with, and I’ll give you some suggestions.”

“Thanks Varric.”

She could feel the temperature in the tavern go up several degrees, and knew that Solas had walked in. She tried to act nonchalant, but Hawke wasn’t fooled. “You know your ears have turned red, right?” she whispered across to Kiana, then winked at Varric.

Varric called out, “Hey, Chuckles, looking for company? Why don’t you join us?”

Solas saw him sharing a table with the Champion, and… her. “No, thank you” he said politely. “I do not intend to stay for long.”

“Come on, none of us bite. Sit, have a drink. It’s on me.” Hawke joined in, and kicked Kiana’s foot under the table. Kiana sighed.

“Yes, Solas. Join us.” she said, politely.

Unconvinced, he nevertheless pulled up a chair and sat at the table. “Varric tells me you defended Kirkwall against a Qunari invasion single-handedly. I must admit to being somewhat skeptical.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Good, because Varric is a _terrible_ liar.”

“Might I ask what actually happened?” Solas inquired, trying to make conversation.

“A bunch of shit pissed off the Arishok, who decided invading Kirkwall was the only option left. I fought the Arishok and defeated him, after which the remaining Qunari left Kirkwall, and I was made Champion. That’s pretty much it,” Hawke said shortly.

“Surely it would have been a fierce fight nonetheless.” Solas said. “From what I have heard, the Qunari are fierce and excel at battle. As a mage, you would have been at a disadvantage. How did you manage to defeat him?”

“Only just.” she said.

Sensing that the topic was an uncomfortable one for the short-haired woman, he changed subjects. “Varric, I believe you owe me a drink.”

“What’ll you have, Chuckles?” the dwarf asked.

“The Nevarran white, please.” he said politely.

“Hold up, I need a refill myself,” Hawke said, and left with Varric, leaving Kiana alone with him.

The silence was awkward.

“I take it you know the Champion?” Solas asked, desperate to break the awkwardness.

“Yes,” she replied just as desperately. “We’re almost like sisters.”

“How do you know her?”

She sighed. She should have expected it. “I helped her out with some, uhhh, mage-related matters.”

He waited, thinking she’d explain some more. When nothing was forthcoming, he burst out, “You are quite secretive, are you not?”

“As are you,” she retorted. “Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” She took a sip of the mead, trying to settle her nerves. Being this close to him, alone, had her wound up, but her pride had been wounded by his rejection, and so she could do nothing but seethe in frustration.

“Hawke’s Grey Warden contact - can we trust them?” he asked, changing to neutral ground.

“Absolutely,” she asked, daring him to say otherwise. “If she says we can trust him, we absolutely can.”

“When do you plan to meet him? he said.

She took another sip of the mead, and he watched in fascination as a drop of the honey-scented amber liquid escaped from the corner of her lips, down her chin and the column of her neck, between the cleavage that her v-necked tunic exposed.

“In a few days,” she said, her brow quirked, an amused smile hovering on her mouth. He realized she’d caught him staring, and reddened. She leaned in close to his ear, and whispered, “I told you I’d give you time to think, Solas. I’m beginning to think I’m giving you too much time.” She exhaled with a slight hiss, the sound very distinctly reminding him of _bedroom activities_ , and he hardened almost instantly. 

She pulled away as the others returned. “What are you two whispering about?” Varric asked with a knowing smile. She grinned. “We were just discussing how much time anyone would need to come to a decision,” she said innocently. 

Hawke smirked. “If that’s why you’re talking about, why does he look like a tomato?” She turned towards Solas. “You poor thing, has Kiana been bullying you?”

Solas shook his head, trying to hold on to some dignity. “Not at all; the Inquisitor does not faze me.” He quickly changed the topic by asking Varric for a story, and soon the matter was forgotten.

Well, mostly forgotten.

He could pay no attention to the dwarf, or anyone else at the table; all he could think of was what she’d whispered into his ear.

_What does she mean, she’s giving me too much time? Is there someone else who’s caught her eye?_ The jealousy in him was a living, breathing thing, and if he didn’t do something about it, something about her, he’d end up doing something regretful.

He knew his choice… now he just needed to find the appropriate time to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fluff. Much wow. 
> 
> I'd love to get some feedback! Let me know what you think so far/suggestions/things you'd like to see :D


	41. Chapter 41

The news coming out of Crestwood was not good. Kiana had hoped the Fallow Mire was the last time she’d have to deal with the undead, but apparently not.

Sighing, she prepared herself for yet another bath outside the fortress upon their return. Although, if it involved a certain Peeping Elf again, she wouldn’t mind at all… shaking her head, she focused on Leliana’s words. 

“So you want me to deal with the undead problem before meeting Hawke’s contact?” she asked the spymaster.

“Yes. The villagers have been besieged by the undead, and cannot hold out for much longer. Harding believes a rift may be the cause of the undead. If we can reclaim the area, it would help us establish routes for my spies, as well as Cullen’s troops.”

She nodded. “I’ll get to it. Harding has set up the _tairseach_ there, has she not?”

“She has. Your creation has greatly helped us. We’ve been able to get information and supplies to our people much faster.”

“Excellent.” she said, pleased. “Let Harding know to expect us in a few days time. We’ll need some sturdy mounts.” She left, pondering who to take with her to Crestwood. _Varric for sure,_ she thought. _Dorian’s necromancy will come in useful with the undead_. She decided to take Blackwall and Cassandra with her; the Warden could provide additional insight.

She sought out Dorian.” _Venn_!” she called out cheerily. 

“Yes, _amicus_?” Dorian answered, amused.

“How do you feel about the undead?” she asked.

He gave her a flat look. “If you’re thinking of going back to the Fallow Mire, I’m going to have to decline.”

“Not the Mire. Crestwood.” At his puzzled look, she continued. “They’re having an undead problem there. It’s supposed to be linked to a rift? Anyhow, Dorian,” she pleaded, “you’re a necromancer! I can’t not go without you!”

He sighed. “You’re lucky I find you adorable. Yes, I’ll come,” he said, letting out a grunt as she hugged him. “Thanks, _venn_ ,” she sang, then bounded down the stairs into the rotunda. “Morning, Solas!” she called out cheerily as she exited the room, not waiting to give him a chance to respond.

* * *

Her anger powered her magic, flowed through her fingertips to summon lighting, vicious and crackling. She allowed it to strike the Highwaymen, and with grim, morbid pleasure heard the crackle and sizzle of it as the voltage raced through the bandit, stopping his heart instantly.

She was never one to bear cruelty and selfishness lightly.

The bandits had taken over the Caer Bronach, keeping the villagers from the one place that would have provided them a measure of safety.

After they had tormented and stolen and pillaged from the same villagers, of course.

Her temper still flaring, she created a wall of fire around the archers who took aim at her friends, coldly listening to their screams of pain as she sliced through the defenders. For them, she would have no mercy. For them, there would only be the violence of her justice.

Soon - almost too soon -the bandits lay dead, their leader naught but ashes. Pulling out the Inquisition flag from her pack, she hobbled over to the flagpole, ignoring the pain shooting through her side.

She did seem to attract all the arrows, after all.

With a flick of her wrist, the black flag that flew high up on the mast incinerated. Tying the Inquisition flag to the pole, she raised it, and immediately it caught the wind and flew proudly.

Soon, their people would arrive, and would provide safety to the village of Crestwood. But for now, she needed to rest, to heal. In silence - they were all far too tired, having fought too many undead, too many Highwaymen - they found their way to the nearest room. In silence, they put down their weapons, pulled off their armor, and began the slow, painful process of healing.

Kiana winced as Blackwall broke off the arrows that had pierced through her armor. _Only two this time, not too shabby,_ she thought. She dared not pull them out of her skin till she was ready to heal, and instead focused on the others. Dorian had fared the best of them all, with a few scratches. His head was distinctly turned away from hers; he was angry at her, for she had stepped in several times to take a blow that had been meant for him. He sat in frustrated silence, healing himself slowly. She sighed, and focused on healing Cassandra and Blackwall before tending to her own wounds.

The next two days were unbearable; through out opening the dam to drain Old Crestwood, to their encounter with the Spirit of Command, to sealing the rift that lay deep in the caves, Dorian was silent, refusing to acknowledge her presence. His icy demeanor resulted in all of them feeling quite uncomfortable, and Kiana found herself wishing she’d left the Tevinter mage behind and brought along Solas instead.

Once they had sealed the rift, the dead stopped rising, as had been predicted. Crestwood’s villagers were relieved, and several of them offered the little they had to the Inquisition - all of which was politely refused. By the time they returned to Skyhold to collect Hawke, Crestwood had begun rebuilding with the Inquisition’s help, and Caer Bronach had become an Inquisition Keep.

But Dorian still wasn’t talking to her, and she’d had enough. She found her way to the library where he usually spent his time, itching for a fight. He was there, as she’d known he’d be, sitting in the plush chair, a book in his hands - a book she plucked away from his grip. “What is your problem?” she cried angrily at him. “If you have a problem with me, Dorian, _just say it_. Stop this little temper tantrum you’re throwing, and _deal_ with it like an _adult_.”

“My problem?” he raged back at her. “ _I_ am not the one who throws themselves into the path of blades and arrows. _I_ am not the one who tries to take blows meant for others. Say what you will about defending us, Inquisitor, but _we_ are _adults_ who are _well aware_ of the risks of battle, so _maybe_ it is time you _woke up_ and realized that, and started treating us like adults!”

She faltered, and her tone became softer. “I _worry_ so much each time I take you with me,” she confessed. “I know you’re right Dorian, I know, but I can’t… I can’t bear to see someone try to hurt you. Any of you.”

Her quiet confession soothed his temper. “I know, _amicus_. Don’t you think I fear the same? I watch you flit around the battlefield, far too close to those whose weapons would cleave you, and I _fear_.” The image of her after the battle at Crestwood, covered with deep gashes and arrows came into his mind, and he pulled her into a hug. “If you keep doing what you do, we will all be too worried about _you_ to pay attention to the enemy, Kiana. You _must_ trust us.”

“Only if you promise never to die,” she said, her eyes covered with the sheen of tears.

“I’ll promise that if you do,” he tried to joke, but there was a lump in his throat.

From where he sat on the scaffold below, Solas unashamedly listened in to their conversation, gripping his brush so hard it snapped.

 _So, she thought to choose the Tevint_ , he thought jealousy. _That preening fool thinks he can lay claim to **my** mate?_

There was the sound of a soft kiss, and the small can of paint near him froze and shattered. The sound echoed loudly through the rotunda, and Kiana peered over the railing in concern. “Is everything okay, Solas?” she asked, and he grit his teeth. _No. You need to stay far, far away from that peacock,_ he thought sourly. “Just a small mishap with the paint, Inquisitor.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful!” she called down.

He heard her resume her conversation with Dorian, this time over books, and his mood sank further. It seemed he would get no peace. Sighing, he put down his brushes. He didn’t think he could continue painting in his current mood. She frustrated him, his mate. One minute she was politely aloof, the next she flirted with him. She was protective of him, now she didn’t need him. She sought his opinion, but would not be manipulated. She was infuriating, frustrating, utterly independent and… He sighed. She was a match for him.

For the Wolf needed someone who would lean on him, but could hunt alone; who would listen, but not always obey. He needed someone who would neither cower nor gloat, a mate who would neither kneel nor ask him to.

It still baffled him that it had taken _millenia_ for her to come into being.

It rankled that she was _human_. That she was _mortal_.

He sighed again. He was back to where he had been, back to the state of desperately _wanting_ but being bound by _duty_.

He knew if he went to her, she would be hurt.

He knew if he went to her, she would end up devastated.

He knew if he went to her, she would be utterly ruined.

And yet… 

He sank his head into his hands.

 _He would go to her._ He could not hold himself back any longer.

Giving up, he climbed down the scaffold and escaped to the privacy of his room, but even there he could not stop the sound of _that kiss_ from playing over and over in his ears.

She was driving him to the brink of insanity, and worse, she didn’t even know it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amicus - friend  
> venn - friend (Kiana's pet name for Dorian; venn is norwegian for friend)
> 
> Just to be clear - Dorian kissed Kiana on the cheek! Nothing naughty!! :D
> 
> This is going so slowly, you guys. I keep wanting to write more of this, but I keep getting my ideas for this mixed up with my ideas for my Modern Girl story, and sometimes it's hard keeping things straight! But we're almost there, I promise! Expect to see fluff and smut soon. (because we all want them to bang already, amirite?)


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the elven in this chapter from Project Elvhen by FenxShiral! I'm fairly sure it's not totally accurate, but I hope you forgive me (and continue reading anyway).

She burst into the room, startling him. “Solas. Grab your staff, we’re heading out.” When he simply stared at her, she barked out. “Now!”

He growled softly, about to retort when he noticed the panic in her eyes. Now worried, he went to his room and picked up his staff and his always-ready pack and met her near the door of the rotunda, where she was pacing.

He was surprised to see Cole there, fully armored. “Her friend hurts.” he said. “Caught in a web, tangled, she will twist if she remains.”

Not able to make sense of the cryptic statement, he waited for Kiana to say something, but she only picked up her daggers and sheathed them behind her back. “Where is Cassandra?” she snarled, and the Seeker showed up a few minutes later, also in full armor.

“What is going on, Kiana?” she asked.

“I need to help out a friend. I’ll explain when we get there.” They walked to the _tairseach_ and placed their hands on it. She whispered, “Exalted Plains” and in a flash, they were at the Inquisition camp there. Ignoring the surprised apologies of their people there - who had not been expecting her - she barked at one of them to get horses ready. Ten minutes later, they were riding out.

Solas was alarmed as she spurred her horse on urgently. “Inquisitor, we can’t help you unless you tell us what’s wrong!” he shouted across to her. She pulled her mount up and waited for the others to catch up. “Last night, I was conversing with Wisdom in the Fade,” she said, her lips trembling slightly, “when she suddenly gave a cry, and was pulled away violently from the Fade.”

Solas stifffened. “A summoning circle,” he said, breathing in horror.

“Yes,” she said. “I was able to track her down to somewhere here. I can only hope it’s not too late.”

Cassandra snorted. “You dragged me all the way here to help a demon?”

“Wisdom is not a demon.” Cole piped up. “Observing, learning, gentle, she passes knowledge gained over time. No blood can be shed by her.”

At Cole’s words, she urged her mount on, forcing the others to increase their speed to remain with her. Soon, in the distance, they saw several bandits circling a party of mages… who had created a summoning circle.

“Don’t move!” she bellowed with anger, the force of it surprising everyone. She leapt off her horse, and immediately proceeded to attack the bandits. Solas only just managed to throw a barrier in time around her, before joining in the fray himself. Cassandra barreled her way through the group, heading for the bandit leader. 

“Stay where you are and don’t do anything!” he heard Kiana rage at the mages, who were too terrified to move. The battle was short lived; there were few who could stand in the force of her fury.

Breathing heavily, her face and armor spattered with blood, she turned towards the mages.

The leader of the group approached them. “Thank you for helping,” he said. “I fear we might have had to resort to more drastic measures if you had not arrived here when you did.”

“You,” she spat out venomously. If looks could kill, they would all be dead. “You summoned Wisdom. You would have had it fight the bandits, would have twisted it against its purpose. You would have turned her into a demon!”

The man shrank back against her glare. “I.. I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons… “

“The Inquisitor here is far more knowledgeable in those matters than you could ever expect to be,” Cassandra said staunchly, much to Solas’ surprise. Even Kiana shot the Seeker a surprised look.

“Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle,” the man blustered.

“Shut. Up.” Solas hissed. “You bound it to obedience, and would have commanded it to kill. Had you done so, it would have turned into a Pride demon.”

Kiana said, in a tone so cold it raised goosebumps on everyone’s skin, “I highly recommend you move from here. There is an Inquisition camp not very far from here; they will help you. If you linger here, I cannot promise to do the same.” Her unspoken threat had the man scrambling back to his group, and in a matter of minutes the mages had packed up and cleared the area.

Solas approached the summoning circle, his eyes sorrowful. “ _Ir abelas_ ,” he called out to Wisdom.

She replied softly. “ _Tel’abelas. Na garemas melana_.”

“ _Ane nu?_ ” 

“ _Te’nuas. Sathan, ar vegaran nuven anor_.” she pleaded. 

“Solas,” Kiana interjected softly. “Let me talk to her, please.” Solas nodded and moved away, giving her some privacy with the spirit.

“ _Ma falon_ ,” she whispered. “ _Ir abelas. Ma tel’gonathe unsuas’min_ " 

“ _Na tel’eolasem. Ar my aman._ ” 

Kiana turned to Solas. “I will break the summoning circle,” she said quietly. “It will break the binding. Do you think you can send her back to the Fade?”

He nodded, his jaw clenched. He’d heard her speak fluent elven to the spirit and knew she had lied to him, and it did not sit well with him. _Now is not the time, old wolf,_ he thought to himself, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She proceeded to break the five pillars of the summoning circle, with help from Cole. Cassandra maintained a safe distance, clearly uncomfortable with the proceedings.

Once the pillars were reduced to rubble, she approached Wisdom again, and knelt in front of her. “ _Solas ne’ma halani_ ,” she said softly.

“ _Ma serannas, falon. Ma’las ‘a’ne ‘ma eth_.” 

“ _Sathem, ma falon. Ar vhellan’ma melava_.” 

She moved away, allowing Solas to approach the spirit. 

“ _Tel’abelas. Ma melava halani. Ma ghilana mir i’ve’an_.” she said. 

“ _Ma nuvenin_ ” he said. Closing his eyes, he raised his hands, and they began to glow. The glow enveloped Wisdom, and she started to gleam. With a soft flash, the spirit turned into wispy trails of smoke, and rose into the sky before vanishing.

“ _Dareth shiral_ ,” he whispered, and he knew Kiana whispered it, too.

They left the place and headed back to camp, where Kiana was immediately innundated with reports. “More undead?” she sighed. “Is the world going mad?” She was informed that the civil war between the Empress and the Grand Duke was at a truce, not just because of the peacekeeping talks that were going on, but because each army had been cloistered up in their respective forts, having been besieged by the undead.

“There’s also a Dalish camp nearby, who seem to be stuck. We’ve tried approaching them to ask if they need help, but they will not talk to us. You’re the only one who can help them, Inquisitor,” the officer reported. 

With promises to return soon with more support to sort out the problems, she left for Skyhold, arriving just as the sun had set. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day and all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed. As she headed towards her quarters, however, a hand wound around her wrist and held her in place.

She groaned. She knew it would be Solas, and she knew why he wanted to talk to her. 

“Inquisitor? A moment, please?” he said coldly.

She sighed. “Of course, Solas. What can I do for you?” she replied tiredly.

He looked at her, and saw the fatigue in her face. She had just saved his friend, and she did not deserve his wrath. He let her hand drop. “I just wanted to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you… I would have lost one of my closest friends.” he said softly.

She smiled at him, reading in his eyes his gratitude. “I could not have done it without you, _lethallin_.”

He watched as she turned away and entered her chambers, debating whether or not to follow her. For all the wrong _shems_ had done to his people, they got one thing right - her. She was the best of her people, even the best of _his_ people, and she was a precious spark in this world gone terribly wrong.

He followed her, entering the hall that lead to her room, and walking up the stairs slowly. He knocked at her door, and stood waiting outside. If she bid him to leave, he would, and would never tell her how he felt.

But she called out gently, “Come in!” and he knew he was lost.

He opened the door and saw the surprise on her face. “Inquisitor. I was… do you have a moment?” he asked, his thoughts completely muddled.

“For my friends, always.” she walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the balustrade, waiting for him to join her.

He walked to where she was, his hands suddenly damp with sweat. He stood facing her, trying to be casual. Debating where to start, how to start his confession, he instead blurted out, “What were you like before the Anchor?”

Her forehead furrowed in confusion, and she raised her hand to stare at the glowing mark. 

He continued, “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals… your spirit?” He desperately needed to know if she was what she was simply because she was, not because his mark, his magic had twisted her into it. 

She laughed, and the sound of it washed over him like it had the first time he had heard it. “If it had, do you really think I’d have noticed?”

She was so sharp, his _vhera_. “No. That is an excellent point.”

“Why do you ask?” she asked, curiously.

He took a deep breath. “You show a wisdom I have not seen since… my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade.” _You are wiser than most of my people, kinder than those who would call themselves gods_ , he thought. “You are not what I expected,” he confessed.

She frowned at that. “Sorry to disappoint,” she said, a slight bite to her words.

_Fenedhis_. “It is not disappointing, it is…” he sighed. “I am sorry, I did not mean it as an insult. Most people are predictable. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected.”

She tilted her head, observing him. “That is… quite an arrogant thing to say. You make me sound as though I am the exception to some rule, some pre-conceived notion of how you think all people should be.”

He sighed again. This conversation was not going as he’d hoped. “Just… if the humans have raised someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them?” he pondered aloud.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Have you?”

“Perhaps if every human I met was like you… perhaps I would not have judged them so harshly,” he confessed. To his surprise, she grimaced. “Some people are just plain assholes. Doesn’t matter if they’re human, or elf, or dwarf.” She looked at him. “I am sorry that elves don’t get fair treatment. It pains me to see some of my kind be so…” she gave a frustrated huff. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m like them,” she said, “and I hope that there are others in the Inquisition who you feel equally comfortable with.”

“I am beginning to see… that there are good people in this world.” he cautiously agreed.

“So what does this mean, Solas?” she asked, a smile in her eyes.

“It means- “ he swallowed thickly, “It means I have not forgotten the kiss.”

At his words, her eyes lit up with warmth. She slowly sauntered up to him, and stood in front of him, close enough for him to feel the heat emanating from her body, but not close enough as he’d have liked.

“Good,” she purred, a smile on her face. She clasped her hands behind her back, and gazed up at him through her lashes, a look of mock-innocence on her face. He knew she was waiting for him to do something, to say something, to finally come to the decision he’d asked time to make, and suddenly he was filled with doubt. _This is a bad idea_ , he thought, unable to bear the thought that he would inadvertently hurt her.

He turned away from her and began to walk away, only to feel the gentle pressure of her hand on his arm. “Don’t go,” she said softly, emotion running through her voice.

“It would be kinder in the long run,” he said hoarsely. “But losing you would… “ unable to bear the pain the thought brought him, he spun around and pulled her into his arms. Placing his hands on her waist as he’d so often dreamed of doing, he captured her lips with his, muffling the soft gasp she gave. She reached up and locked her arms behind his neck, and pressed herself against him. He moaned into her mouth, and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him.

He kissed her repeatedly, soft, gentle brushes of lips against lips, each pass a worship of who she was. She whimpered softly against his lips, and he finally pulled back, gazing into her desire-fogged eyes, noting with a self-indulgent triumph the flush on her cheeks. 

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ” he said gently, and at the sound of it _she_ pulled him down towards her, and kissed him so deeply he swore he could feel the essence of her settle deep in his heart. She rested her forehead against his, and whispered against his skin, “ _Ar lath ma_.”

No victory, no praise, nothing he’d ever gained pleasure from in his long-lived life even _remotely_ compared to the feeling of knowing that he had her heart. She was his precious spark, his _vhera_ , his mate, and _she was his_.

When she pulled back, her eyes were troubled. “ _Ma vhenan_ , we need to talk. I am too tired for serious conversation tonight; will you meet me tomorrow morning?”

He pressed his lips gently to her brow. “Of course.”

They spent the evening curled up against on her sofa, each immersed in a book, two hearts filled with joy and love, whose beats resonated with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> _Ir abelas_ \- I'm very sorry.  
>  _Tel’abelas. Na garemas melana_ \- Don’t be sorry. You came in time.  
>  _Ane nu?_ \- Are you hurt?  
>  _Te’nuas. Sathan, ar vegaran nuven anor_ \- I am not in pain. Please, I want to return home.  
>  _Ma falon. Ir abelas. Ma tel’gonathe unsuas’min_ -My friend. I'm very sorry. You did not deserve that which has happened.  
>  _Tel'abelas. Na tel’eolasem. Ar my aman_ \- Don't be sorry. You didn't know. I have been kept safe.  
>  _Solas ne'ma halani_ \- Solas will help you.  
>  _Ma serannas, falon. Ma’las ‘a’ne ‘ma eth_ \- Thank you, my friend. I hope you stay in safety.  
>  _Sathem, ma falon. Ar vhellan’ma melava_ \- You're welcome. I will meet you in some time/I will see you soon.  
>  _Tel’abelas. Ma melava halani. Ma ghilana mir i’ve’an_ \- Don't be sad. You helped me. Guide me to the Fade.  
>  _Ma nuvenin_ \- As you wish  
>  _Dareth shiral_ \- Safe journey
> 
> So... it finally happened! Wheeee! It took me forever to write this chapter because I clearly suck at translating stuff into elven. I had to sit down with pen and paper and... ugh. It was an ordeal. But worth it!! :D


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiana finally talks about her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update frequency: Weekly
> 
> (I've had to reduce the frequency of my updates to this story. Between this and my other story, my fingers are running ragged from typing!)

“Secrets.” she said softly, “will doom love.”

Solas was gripped by panic, the tendrils of it reaching up from his stomach and clawing at his throat. Her words bore far more wisdom than she knew… but it was _too late_. He had given his heart to hers, had taken hers in return, and nothing in the world could change that. So he sat silently, waiting for her to continue.

She looked at him now, and smiled. They were in the forest outside the gates of Skyhold, in a tree house that she’d had Gatsi secretly build for her. She rested her head atop her knees, and continued talking. “I know you have secrets, Solas, Deep, dark, painful ones.” He tried to say something, to protest, but she cut him off. “I can see it in your eyes, _vhenan_. You do not have to share them with me - although I hope in time you will - but do not lie to me.”

He lapsed into silence, and nodded.

“I cannot force you to spill that which you keep hidden, nor would I want to. However,” she said, a small smile on her face, “I can give you mine.” She took a deep, slow breath. “Ask anything of me, and I will answer.”

He knew what she gave him, and his heart nearly burst. It wasn’t her secrets that she offered up; no, she gave him power over her, and in doing so, gave her trust. Once again he was pierced with deep, intense guilt, and he had to look away from her eyes.

“Tell me how you ended up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Her eyes had a knowing glint in them. “You wish to know of my past.” He nodded.

“Very well. I have already told you about my family - not that I consider them as such - and about discovering my magic, and Renthis.” She gazed into the distance thoughtfully, the light of the Anchor causing flickering shadows on the walls. “I suppose it would all start with Laura,” she mused.

“She was someone special?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” she said calmly, but he could feel the storm that began to brew beneath her skin. “She was my best friend, almost my sister. Certainly more of a sister to me than those who I share blood with,” she said, a hint of disdain in her voice. 

“She… she was the nicest person you could ever hope to meet. She made everyone happy. Everyone. She… “ Kiana broke off, rubbing her face. 

“What happened to her?” Solas asked gently.

“She was a mage. They… her parents discovered it when she caused flowers to bloom in their garden in the middle of winter. We were twelve, I think. I’d had just started learning how to master my magic.”

“You didn’t tell her about your magical abilities?”

She shook her head. “I was too scared. Although now, I wonder…” she gave him a sad smile. “Her parents called the Templars, and she was taken to the Ostwick Circle. She cried so much, it broke my heart. Her parents just watched her go, they looked at her as though she was an abomination.” she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Anyway, Ostwick was considered one of the better Circles. Mages were supposed to have more freedom - they could write home to their loved ones if they wished. But there were rumors, rumors of ugliness behind the walls of the Tower…

Laura wrote to me. Of course. At first, her letters were the same; asking about me, our friends, talking about her studies, things like that. But when she turned sixteen…” her face darkened. “Her letters changed. They seemed more scripted, and less natural. I poured over them, several nights in a row, till I discovered the code. _Heat_ , it said. So I held up her letter in front of a flame.”

“Lemons,” Solas recognized.

“Yes. Behind the ink, a new letter appeared. She wrote that she was being pursued by a Templar. He was from one of the noble houses in Ostwick, and his name held a great deal of power. It seemed he had taken a particular interest in her… blossoming body.” Her fists clenched. “She pleaded with me to do something, to help her.” She looked up at Solas. “But what could I do? I was sixteen myself, and while I was better with my magic and my blades, I was a noblewoman who was expected to sit quietly and demurely till someone asked for my hand. If I had told anyone - well, who could I tell? Her parents? My parents? And if I did have someone to tell, what good would it do? It would end up with her getting into more trouble.”

She stared at the ground. “So I did nothing.” she said, so softly he barely made out the words.

“She sent me three more letters, each begging for help, before she stopped. I wrote to her several times, but my letters were always returned back to me, unopened.” She stared off into the distance, her eyes unseeing.

“What happened then?”

“I was eighteen, when I finally got a letter from her. A long sheet of paper, with only three sentences on it - ‘I failed my Harrowing. I am Tranquil. I am content.” Kiana shuddered. “The secrets the letter held were far darker. She had written the letter after they made her Tranquil, you see, and she told me the truth. The Templar had raped her, repeatedly, threatening her with Tranquility if she objected.” Silent tears ran down her eyes. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. She… she found herself with child.” Openly weeping now, she barely noticed his arms around her. “The templar was afraid of being caught, so… he pushed her down the stairs. She broke several bones, and she lost the child. But that wasn’t enough for him. He told his Knight-Commander that she had tried to seduce him, and had used offensive magic against him when he refused.”

Solas’ blood boiled. “A crime for which Tranquility would be the only punishment.”

She nodded. “I hated myself. I had known for years, and I did nothing. But… what happened to her… I could not bear it. I would not bear it. So I started plotting.” She gave him a wry grin. “Eighteen years old, mostly sheltered all my life - where could I even begin? With Renthis’ help, I was able to hire an Antivan Crow.” She grinned slightly at the memory. “Zevran was both immensely flustered and highly amused that I asked him to teach me his ways. He didn’t laugh once I started learning though. I was ridiculously good at it, even if I say so myself. I learnt as much as I could from him, and he became a good friend. When I told him of my plans, he was the one who put me in touch with Soris.”

“What was your plan?” Solas asked, curious.

“As part of my training, I’d venture into the underworld of Ostwick with Zevran,” she sighed “and I found that the treatment of mages by the templars was worse than I could have imagined. Too many mages were being made Tranquil, either to cover a rape, or to facilitate it.” Her lips thinned into a dangerous line. “The templars weren’t above buying abortifacients from the underworld - in truth, they were more poisons than potions. I opened up a one such healer shop - with Soris as the frontman - and the templars would come by to buy whatever they needed, under the cover of darkness. The potion I sold them was a modified, non-lethal version of the poison used by the Antivan Crows. It would cause whoever drank it to appear dead, and then they would be taken to the mortuary. I had a contact in the mortuary who would have been alerted, and they would keep the body aside to be smuggled out.”

He looked at her in amazement. “Where would you take them? It would have been difficult to find a place to harbor mages.”

She shrugged. “They were usually Tranquil,” she said, “and I had a plan in place. I had asked my parents for a patch of land - on the outskirts of Ostwick, just under the Vimmark mountains. It was a dry, barren patch of land, that could not be farmed on, and thus held no interest to them. I told my parents I wanted to start a horse-breeding farm there, and though initially they were resistant, they eventually caved in. I set up a sanctuary of sorts there for the Tranquil I helped escape.”

He was speechless. She was young, but he began to understand she was not inexperienced. She was a rebel, just as he was, and he thrilled at the knowledge.

“You said your parents sent you to Starkhaven. Why?” he asked, remembering an earlier conversation.

“Three years in, I had a pretty good network set up. None of my people knew each other, and only three people knew who I was - my second in command Cyrion, Soris and Paulette. Paulette was from a noble family - the Kendells - and she sympathized with the mages plight. She had a sister who was a mage, you see. She was in charge of keeping the nobles distracted, and away from poking their noses around our little store. It worked for a while.”

“Then what happened?”

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “I was betrayed.” She was silent for several long minutes before she spoke up again. “Paulette was infatuated with Cyrion, and apparently Cyrion was in love with me. I didn’t know. I thought of him as a good friend, and I called her friend, too. Paulette soon became jealous of me, and out of spite, told her parents that Cyrion had forced himself on her.”

Solas could feel the rage shimmering around her. “He was an elf, so of course he was arrested, and executed. But that wasn’t all; she told my parents what I had been doing, and threatened to inform the Teryn. My parents, horrified as they were, were not about to let her ruin their reputation - so they ruined hers instead, by spreading rumors that she had willingly lain with Cyrion. They even produced false witnesses. Paulette was ruined; she hung herself out of shame, I was told. My parents would not have me around, so they shipped me off to Starkhaven to let the furor die down.”

“What happened to your network?”

“As soon as Cyrion was arrested, I dismantled it immediately. Soris left the same night, and destroyed everything in the shop. I sent word to the others.”

“And what did you do in Starkhaven?” he asked.

She gave him an impish smile. “More of the same. Sebastian introduced me to Hawke, and with her help we managed to save several from Kirkwall during the war. Sebastian himself was instrumental in granting me more land - usually isolated patches of land that held no interest to anyone - and allowed me to set up farms there. Most of them are still running quite successfully, actually.”

“Who did you help?”

“At Ostwick, I focused on the Circle. In Starkhaven, I was able to do more - especially with Hawke’s help. Varric doesn’t know it, but his network has helped me several times. Anyone who needed help, I helped. I rescued elves from alienages, Tranquil and mages from the circles, anyone who would fall into the hands of slavers… well. I can’t say I rescued when it was a collaboration.”

“And how did you end up at the Conclave?”

“I was hired by one of the mages groups to protect them on their way there.”

“Hired?” he questioned.

She laughed. “Hired. An operation needs money to run. I was cut off from my family, and I could not keep asking Seb. I started hiring my skills out, usually for protection, not for assassinations.”

“Are you ashamed of your past? Is that why you do not want the others to know?”

“Maker, no. If anything I’m proud of it. I will tell the others… in time, when they have proven themselves. My network is still running, albeit slower. I cannot afford to jeopardize it, there are too many people who depend on it.”

“How did you do it? How did you manage it?”

Again, she shrugged. “I did it because… I was angry. And I wanted justice, I couldn’t sit back and do _nothing_. I made mistakes, and learnt along the way. I learnt as much as I could from Zevran, and what I could from the Fade, and more from experience.”

“What happened to the templar?” he asked, delicately.

She understood, and her eyes flashed. “Laura’s revenge, at my hand. I cut his genitals off, and let him bleed to death.”

He winced. He’d wondered how she - a noblewoman - managed to take lives without hesitation, or feeling squeamish about it. Now he knew.

“Why? Why do any of it? Why bother taking the risk?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she countered. 

“There are enough of your kind who are content to stand by and do nothing.” he said bitterly.

She frowned. “Yes. But in my experience, there are those who are willing to rise up, and _do_ something, who are willing to stand up and usher change… so that _all_ of us can have a better future.” She gave him a half smile. “Just look at the Inquisition. We’re such a rag-tag bunch, aren’t we? A former templar, working with apostate mages. A man from Tevinter who wishes to be better than the rest of his countrymen. Qunari, dwarf, human, elf - all working together. _That_ is what I want this world to be. _That_ is what I believe we can be.”

“Lofty goals, _vhenan_. The qunari will not abandon the Qun so easily. Most races will not let go of the past so easily.” he warned.

She sighed. “A small pebble can cause ripples throughout a pond, Solas. It will take time, but we will get there.” 

He held her a little tighter then, this woman who held so much hope and light and optimism that even he who was grim and fatalistic could feel it. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and whispered into her hair, “You are precious.” There was companionship and comfort between them; though the flames were present, they were banked.

With her, he realized, there was _home_.

“ _Vhenan_?” he asked.

“Mmmm?” she murmured lazily; he looked down at her to see she was close to falling asleep.

“You can speak elven, can’t you?”

She became a little more alert at that, and sat up to face him. She looked a little shame-faced, and he had to suppress his urge to laugh. She looked so much like a puppy caught in the middle of an act it knows it is not to do.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I lied to you!” she burst out. “It’s just that… I’m so used to keeping things from people. Never show anyone all your cards, you know?”

“So, it is only elven you know?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

She grinned. “I’m rather good with languages, surprisingly. I know Antivan and Rivaini, and a decent amount of Tevene. I’m now trying to get Bull to teach me some Qunlat.”

He burst out laughing. “Is there anything you are not good at?” he asked amusedly.

She grinned, and ticked off a list from her fingers, “I don’t have the greenest thumb, I am terrible at writing anything - stories or reports, I can’t embroider, I’m sub-par at baking, and I’ve been told that a mabari’s table manners put mine to shame.” She leaned in closer and whispered confidentially, “I was _trying_ to make the mabari look good.”

He laughed long and hard at that. 

“What about you?” she asked. “What are you good at?” The question made him suddenly somber. 

_What I am good at, vhenan, is destroying the world. Bringing ruin to those I love. Spreading misery wherever I go. They call me the great betrayer, Fen’harel, Dread Wolf, the trickster god. Can you love me, vhenan, knowing all that? Knowing what I did to my people… and what I would do to yours?_

Instead, he forced a smile. “I am good at the Fade, and little else I’m afraid.”

She cupped his cheek, and said fiercely, “No. You are more than that, Solas. You are intelligent, and wise, and you are kind and gentle. You have prejudices, but you are willing to listen to your opponent, and humble enough to concede when you are wrong. You are just, and will defend those who cannot do so themselves. You paint beautifully, so beautifully I can spend hours marvelling at your murals. When you talk, it almost sounds like poetry, _vhenan_.” Her eyes were pained, and it made him sad to see her thus. “Why can you not see what I see?” she said, and kissed him gently, softly, adoringly.

He could not say anything, for there was a lump in his throat and a glow in his heart - so instead he let his kiss tell her all the things his lips could not say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery is finally revealed! Kiana pretty much ran a miniature Thedosian version of the Resistance. She and Solas do have quite a bit in common, after all :D


	44. Chapter 44

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Kiana said, staring slack-jawed at the massive, intimidating throne.

“Impressive, is it not? Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence, and the burden of it.”

“Josephine, do you really expect me to sit on the damn thing like I’m a frigging ruler and pass judgement on people? And who exactly will I be judging anyway?” she blustered.

“Those who have done wrong. You will know of them, at the very least. All this presumes they have survived their initial encounter with you, of course.” Josephine replied calmly.

“Josie, I kill enough people as it is. Do I really need more blood on my hands?” she asked.

“Judgement does not only include execution. Justice has many tools. If their application is clever, even execution may seem merciful.” the diplomat replied.

“How does the Inquisition have the right to deliver justice anyway?” she grumbled.

“The Inquisition’s sovereignity is derived from the allies who validate it. You are both empowered and bound.” the Antivan responded diplomatically.

Kiana sighed. _Empowered and bound_. That was pretty much the sum total of her role as Inquisitor, it seemed. “Very well, let us do this. Do we have anyone to judge?”

“Take the throne. When you are ready, we will bring them before you.” Josephine said, before walking away.

Kiana eyed the throne darkly. _This is utter nonsense_ , she thought. _I’m not meant to sit on a throne like some sort of queen!_ She could hear a crowd gathering behind her, the murmurs in the great hall getting louder, and with a deep sigh climbed the podium, and took her seat on the throne.

The nobles - the ridiculous, frippery nobles - all broke out in gasps and exclamations. _I think I make quite a figure sitting here, she thought wryly to herself_. Scanning the crowd, she saw Solas standing in a corner, his eyes on her. She gave him a small smile, but he did not respond. The look on his face was almost… thoughtful. As though he was planning something… 

_Snap out of it! Focus on what you’re doing_. The sound of the guards and the clink of chains caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes as she saw Alexius being dragged in towards her. 

From her side, Josephine spoke up. “You recall Gereon Alexius, of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as an acknowledgement of your aid.”

_Damn you, Alistair_ , she thought. _Couldn’t you have just dealt with him yourself_? She really had no desire to be reminded of what the magister had done. She refocused on Josephine’s words. “The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination. On your own life, not less.”

She was shocked at the man who stood before her. This was not the magister she remembered. This man was utterly broken and completely defeated. 

Josephine finished her speech, and for a moment Kiana simply looked over the man. “These are grave charges,” she said solemnly. “Do you have something to say in your defense?”

“I couldn’t save my son!” the man spat out bitterly. “Do you think my fate matters to me?”

She felt a flicker of pity towards the man, and remembered Felix’s plea.

The diplomat spoke up. “Will you offer nothing more in your defense?” she said, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“You’ve won nothing!” he said gravely. “The people you save, the acclaim you’ve gathered - you’ll lost it all in the storm to come. Render your judgement, Inquisitor.”

She smiled grimly. “I **am** the storm,” she said, her face stern and fierce. “And I will lose **nothing**. Gereon Alexius. You swore to the mages you would help them. I will have you uphold that promise. Fiona will take charge of you. Any knowledge, favor or coin you own will go towards the mages’ future.” she said, her back straight, chin held up high.

“A headsman would have been kinder,” he spat out.

She got down from the throne, and stood in front of him. Softly, she said, her words directed at him, “Felix thought the world of you. Do not let him down again.” She nodded to the guards, who took him away. 

“Are we done?” she addressed Josephine, who shook her head no.

Her second case was less grim - the father, and clan leader of the Avvar group she’d battled in the Fallow Mire. She still didn’t understand why he felt the need to pelt the castle wall with goats, but she laughed throughout the proceedings, and when the man said he had intended to fight the Tevints, she had him exiled to the Imperium with all the weapons he could carry, and he’d willingly agreed to become their agent.

The prisoners judged, the crowd dispersed, and she went to look for Solas. She found him not in the rotunda, but in the gazebo of the garden. She approached him slowly, smiling at how relaxed he appeared. “I’m thinking of turning this into a herb garden, what do you think? She said as she sat next to him. 

“It is a good idea. From the little I have seen, it seems to have once served such a purpose in the past.”

“I think it’s a better option than the Chantry garden Cassandra suggested. I understand she thinks it will bring hope, but I would much rather have something more practical.”

“I agree,” he said. 

They discussed the herbs best suited for the garden, and ones she thought would come of use to the healers, as well as the best layouts, and the quality of the soil. She was amazed at how much he knew, and eagerly took in all the information he gave her.

“So,” he said, changing topics, “what made you pass that particular sentence onto Alexius? The man tried to have you killed; no one would have faulted you for having him executed.”

“Do you not approve?” she asked with a frown.

“It is unusual, and more merciful than I had expected, but no, I do not disapprove.” he replied.

She looked pensive for a moment. “He was a father who loved his son very much,” she said quietly, “enough to walk down a dark path to save him.” She looked at Solas, a small smile on her lips. “His son helped me, said his father was a good man. I gave him a chance to redeem himself, for his son’s sake.” She continued with a chuckle, “Now Movran, I like. Think of just how pissed off the Vints will be once he reaches their borders!”

He smiled distractedly, his mind instead picturing her on the throne. She looked truly regal, as though she belonged there. _I **am** the storm_ , she’d said, and he had believed it. She had been stern with the magister, but had laughed when the Avvar man stood before her. Her judgements had been fair, and just; far more so than even Mythal, he thought to himself with a frown. Even though the All-Mother was known for her sense of justice he doubted she would have been so kind towards someone who had attempted to kill her.

If this was Arlathan, she would have been his queen, and ruled by his side. She would have been beloved by his people, and the others would have burned with jealousy, and would have tried to strike her down.

Perhaps it was better this was _not_ Arlathan, then.

He gave her a sidelong glance, watching her tilt her head back and soak in the sunshine.

“You should stop looking so serious all the time, you know,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “It’s bad for health.”

“Perhaps I have a reason to be,” he said with a smile.

She turned her head to look at him, eyes roving over his face. He always looked so somber, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she itched to help him with his burdens.

_But he won’t let me in_ , she thought sadly.

Instead, she leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. “There!” she exclaimed gaily, “you’ve been kissed, and therefore you have no reason to be serious.”

He laughed. “Has the Inquisitor passed judgement on this matter?” he teased.

“Indeed she has, and as penance it shall be your duty to fill her stomach,” she grinned. “I’m rather hungry,” she confessed.

He stood up, and she blushed a little when he held out his hand for her to take. “I have been judged, and I shall not fail my duty,” he said with a cheeky grin. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he meant to escort her to her room, but she instead pulled him along to the kitchens where they stealthily stole several mini-tarts and sandwiches. She laughed when they were caught, and teased the cook who shooed them off with a smile on her face. They wandered into the stables, sitting in the corner on bales of hay while feasting on the food they’d obtained.

She told him all about horses, and he told her of harts. When they ran out of topics related to mounts to talk about, they settled instead for soft, melting kisses, and were in the middle of a particularly long-drawn one when they were caught by Blackwall.

They left the stables quickly, climbing the stairs to the kitchen, the sounds of Blackwall’s guffaws following them. “Well,” she sighed, “I bet all of Skyhold know about this by the end of the day.”

He frowned at that. “Does that bother you? That they will talk about us?”

She gave him a confused look. “Why would I be bothered about it? If they want to talk, let them. If they want to _touch_ , on the other hand… I’m not very good at sharing,” she said with a smile.

He pulled her into the wine cellar, and pushed her up against a wall. Placing his arms on either side of her head, he grinned down at her, the smile hinting at something feral. “They will not be looking at me, Inquisitor, not when there is something that shines as bright as you.” He nipped the side of her neck, and she gave a soft hiss. “I am not very good at sharing, either,” he added, trailing kisses down her jaw slowly, before finally capturing her lips with his.

She moaned softly into his mouth, the embers in her slowly springing to flame. She parted her lips to grant him access, and trembled when he rumbled his approval. She felt herself sinking deeper, felt herself wanting, needing more. She pressed herself against him shamelessly, gripping his tunic tightly in her fists, and felt his moan slither towards her core…

The knock on the door startled the both of them, and Solas sprung back. “Your Worship?” a voice called out from. “Commander Cullen has scheduled a war council in ten minutes.”

“I’m going to _kill_ someone” she grumbled softly, before clearing her throat.“I will be there shortly. Thank you.” she said, a helpless smile directed towards Solas.

He, however, was not very amused. How could he, when she looked like that, her hair in the state of dishrevel that accompanies passion, when her cheeks were flushed red, and her eyes glowed with the sheen of desire? “I will let you go this time,” he teased, nipping at her ear, “but I will not be so patient the next time.”

She laughed ruefully. “There’s always something or the other. Will I see you in the evening?” she looked at him. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, chuckling as he saw her blush. “ _Ma nuvenin_ ” he said.

She smiled, and kissed him gently. “ _Ar lath ma_ ” she said, before smoothing down her hair and straightening her clothes and leaving the room.

He was still smiling when he returned to the rotunda, much to Dorian’s surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit Jim, can't an Inquisitor get some privacy around here?
> 
> You guys, my poor fingers. I smushed my hand on a door when playing with a kid, and they frigging hurt so much! This chapter took far too long to type up :(


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it with magisters and wanting to take over the world, anyway?

The heat of the desert sands shimmered in the air as they trudged forward. The thoughts in her head distracted her from truly feeling the blistering sun.

_The Calling._   
_The Archdemon’s call._   
_The Grey Wardens. Blight. Blood magic._

It circled in her head, over and over like angry wasps.

She cursed the Warden Commander in her head. Why had she immediately gone for blood magic? Who had tricked her into using it? Maybe it was an envy demon, much like the one the Chargers had hunted down and killed when investigating Therinfal.

Something told her it was not.

They arrived at the Tevinter ritual tower, and met up with Stroud and Hawke. Both of them looked grave. “The ritual has already started, Inquisitor” Stroud spoke. She felt a knot in her stomach. Hawke looked somber.

“Then we have no time to waste. We must stop it immediately!” she growled out, and charged into the tower.

Piles of bodies lay about, the corpses drained entirely of blood. Her stomach curdled, and she had to force down the bile that threatened to rise up her throat. She could hear someone pleading, stating that it was wrong, and she pressed on, desperate to save even one person.

She arrived in time to see the a Warden being slaughtered, his blood used to summon a demon, and another Warden binding the mage to themselves.

And overseeing them was… another magister.

_Maferath’s fucking ballsack!_ She thought. There were four Warden mages. Four demons. _And the possibility of more_. She began to understand how the demon army was being formed. 

She hated the magister on sight. Even though Alexius had tried to kill her, would have caused the destruction of the world, she could understand a father’s desperation to save his son.

She did not understand the greed for power.

As Erimond bragged about serving Corypheus as a god-king, she felt her power itch along her skin, felt her magic want to strike out against him like an angry snake. 

“And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?” he smirked, and she swore to herself she would cut his face off.

“Your allies don’t scare me,” she replied coolly.

But Corypheus had taken the Warden’s minds through the ritual, and she felt a frissure of fear. _I’m glad I didn’t bring Solas here_. She wanted him nowhere near this blood magic.

“What did you do to the Wardens?” Stroud angrily demanded.

“They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help.”

Somehow she doubted they’d looked everywhere. Clarel had a lot to answer for.

“Even Tevinter,” Stroud said grimly.

“Yes. And since it was my _master_ who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared.”

_You’re not prepared for the Inquisition, you bastards._

“I went to Clarel, full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan. Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

Understanding began to dawn on Stroud’s face. “No Old God, no Archdemon, no more Blights,” he breathed. 

She placed a hand on his arm. “The Wardens control the demons. But Corypheus controls the Wardens. He will use them to create a demon army, then use the army to invade Orlais.” she said, forcefully tamping down any signs of fear. She would not show weakness in front of this scum.

“This was a test,” Erimond grinned maliciously. “Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

“So Corypheus influenced the Wardens and made them do the ritual?” Hawke spoke up from the corner, guilt in her voice. 

Erimond scoffed. “Ha! Made them? No. Everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free wills. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were _very_ afraid. What is the Grey Warden motto? In war, victory, in peace, vigilance, in death, sacrifice.”

“That’s a lie! The Grey Wardens are heroes! They would never do this willingly!” Blackwall thundered.

The magister rolled his eyes. “The Wardens care about nothing save stopping Blights. They will do _anything_ to accomplish that.”

She looked towards Stroud, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. Burdens of command, I suppose.” he added casually.

_No matter how desperate they were, they should not have turned to blood magic! What was Clarel thinking? Is she even able to think? What if Corypheus is controlling her mind?_

“Do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight?” Hawke asked.

“The Elder One commands the Blight. He is not commanded by it, like the mindless darkspawn. The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool.”

“Someone’s certainly a tool,” Varric muttered.

Kiana filed away that bit of information for later.

“Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won’t ask twice,” she said softly, steel coating every word.

Erimond sneered. “No, you won’t.”

A glow of light formed on his hand, causing her Anchor to flare up again. _Not again!_ She thought. Corypheus had tried to do the same thing to her.

But the fool in front of her did not have the orb Corypheus wielded.

She pretended to be in agony, falling to her knees to strengthen the farce.

“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.”

_Keep talking, you bastard_ , she thought, feeling the power from her core slide down her arm, straight into the Anchor.

“The mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you safely pass through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade.”

_So that’s what he wanted it for. To gain physical access to the Fade. Does that moron not learn from his mistakes?_

She gave up on the pretense and got to her feet confidently. Her Anchor was near-bursting with power, enough to kill a man in a single strike, and she knew it.

“When I bring in your head, his gratitude will be - “ his cry of pain was immensely satisfying to hear as she let her magic run free and hit him. With a final pulse, and a flash of green, she watched him fly backwards and strike the wall of the tower. _Pity, it didn’t kill him_ , she thought, disappointed. She watched him stagger upright, saw the fear in his face as they moved closer to him.

“Kill them!” he cried out, limping away. Kiana roared in fury, but her path was blocked by the demons and the possessed Wardens, and she was forced to remain behind to fight them.

Between the six of them, the fight was over quickly, and she rushed onwards but Erimond had disappeared.

She hissed in frustration. “Human sacrifice, demon summoning… who looks at this and thinks it’s a good idea?”

“The fearful and the foolish,” Hawke replied.

“The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons,” Stroud interjected. The man was too calm for someone who’d just seen his fellow Wardens sacrificed and bound to demons.

Hawke crossed her arms in distaste. “All blood mages do,” she spat. “Everyone has a story to tell themselves to justify bad decisions… and it never matters. In the end, you are alone with your actions.”

Kiana knew the woman spoke from a place of experience, and agreed with her.

“I believe I know where the Wardens are, your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction,” Stroud said, pointing west, “There’s an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant.”

“I guess they didn’t want to summon a demon army out in public,” she tried to joke weakly.

“Stroud and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We’ll meet you back at Skyhold.”

Kiana nodded. Pulling Hawke into a hug, she slipped a keystone into the other woman’s pocket, and whispered into her ear. “The thing in your pocket is a keystone. You can use it to get back to Skyhold instantly.” She stepped back, “Do not tarry a moment longer than necessary. I will talk to Cullen and get our forces ready.”

She returned to Skyhold with her friends, and immediately sent out runners to her advisors, then changed her mind and called for her Inner Circle as well. They gathered in the war room, around the massive table. Everyone knew whatever the matter was, it was big.

She gave them a brief rundown on the Grey Wardens, the magister, the false Calling, the binding ritual, and the demon army, as everyone listened on in horror.

“Why would Clarel risk using demons?”, Dorian asked.

“Demons need no food, no rest, no healing. Once bound, they will never retreat, never question orders. They are the perfect army.” Solas said gravely.

“Cullen, gather our forces and get them ready. Attacking Adamant will not be easy, but we have no other choice.” she spoke authoritatively.

“We’ll need siege equipment,” Cullen said.

Josephine mentioned she would contact the nobles for aid. “There are a few of them who owe us favors,” she said.

“Leliana, we’ll need a lot of healers out on the field. If you can get a few Scouts to set up _taisearchs_ in the nearby area, we could use them to transport equipment and supplies mid-battle.” she said.

“I’ll talk to the mages,” the spymaster promised.

Kiana looked around at her companions. “I’ll need every one of you out on field. It’s going to be hard, and we’re looking at a crapton of demons, but hopefully Blackwall can talk to the Warden warriors and get them to back down. The mages, I fear, are a lost cause. If you see a Grey Warden mage… make sure you target them first. Hit them fast, and hit them hard."

The mood was grim when they finally dispersed. She headed to the Undercroft to talk to Dagna about creating stronger equipment and armor for her companions, then went to seek out Solas. She found him in the rotunda, pacing nervously. When he caught sight of her, he burst out, “We have to stop the Grey Wardens! What they seek to do is madness. They don’t know what will happen when they seek out the Old Gods!”

Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. He was clearly upset, and she worked to calm him down. “They are desperate,” she sighed, and took his hands in hers. Looking him in the eyes, she added, “We’ll stop them, I promise, _vhenan_.” He looked at her, his face inscrutable for a few seconds before a small smile broke out. “Thank you. It is strange to know that I’m no longer alone… “

She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them lightly. “I’m glad,” she said, and slanted her lips across his in a soft kiss. “And I’m glad I have you,” she added.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat above them, and she looked up to see Dorian grinning down at her. “I’m feeling rather alone and upset,” he teased, “do you think I could get a kiss too, Kiana?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, but was flabbergasted when Solas spoke up. “I don’t think so, Tevinter. If you want affection, you need to find someone else. I do not share what is mine”. With that, he pulled her in and kissed her, his arms gripping her waist possessively. 

“Can we go up to your room?’ he whispered into her ear, before giving it a gentle nip. She immediately understood what he meant, and she instantly felt like her body heat up in anticipation. She broke off from him, and walked away, giving him a come-hither look. She grinned with satisfaction as the look in his eyes turned hot.

She knew he stalked closely behind her heels.

Suddenly, her room was _too far_ away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I posted :( I'm pretty into my other story at the moment, and so it's hard to switch over to writing this one (even though I have notes and plot guidelines in place) because they're pretty different. I'll keep at it, though! :D


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW! Smut alert!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who have clamored to have Solas and Kiana hook up. I love y'all.

He followed close to her heels, frustrated at how slowly she was walking. Yet he could not help but admire the swaying of her hips as she placed one foot before another.

“ _Fenedhis_ ”, he swore, and grabbed her by the hips, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. “You are driving me mad, _vhera_ , and I **cannot** wait any longer.” With that, he pulled her across the rotunda to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. With a wave of his hand, he placed a barrier across it, and turned his attention to the woman in his room.

His very luscious mate.

Who smelt _amazing._

“What did you do, _vhenan_?” he asked hoarsely. “Your scent… it is _mouthwatering_.”

She flushed at the heat in his words, as desire pooled low in her belly. “Nothing,” she said, shuddering as he dragged his tongue along her neck. 

“Do you know how long I’ve ached for you?” he groaned against her neck, nipping at her pulse point that throbbed so appealingly. “Each time I see you I imagine myself dragging you to a dark corner and losing myself in you.” 

She moaned at his words, pressing herself closer to him, only to whimper when he pulled himself away, depriving her of his heat. “I… I didn’t know,” she replied breathlessly, “but I’ve wanted… wanted you for a long time, too”.

“Tell he,” he commanded, and she shivered at his tone. “I… wanted you… to come to my room… _ahhh_!” she cried out as he cupped her breast. He gently bit her ear. “I did not ask you to stop, _vhenan_ ,” he crooned, and she gave another soft moan. “In Haven… I wanted you to take me… in my room… “ she whimpered as he found her nipple through the cloth and pinched it softly. “Solas, please,” she pleaded, and it seemed to trigger something in him.

He slid his hand into her hair, and gripped it hard. Jerking her head backwards, he drew his teeth down her jaw, sharp little nips that he soothed with his tongue. “Tell me you want this, _ma’vhenan_ ,” he said softly, smirking as he felt her body tremble against his.

To his surprise, she gripped his shoulders and turned, so that he was the one trapped against the wall. “You’ll have to do better than that, _ma sa’lath_ ” she teased, and took his face between her hands and kissed him, hot and hard and deep, swallowing the moan he gave.

No woman he’d ever been with had dared to take charge, and he found himself _intensely_ aroused by it. She pressed her hips against his, allowing him to part her legs with his thigh. She pulled back, and lifted his jawbone amulet off, placing it around her neck instead. He growled softly as he saw it nestled snugly between her breasts as though it belonged there. Now she tugged on his tunic, and he raised his hands over his head to make its removal easier. Once it was off, he began to bring his hands down, only to be denied. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, as she grinned and pinned his hands over his head. Summoning some of her magic, she bound his hands there; he tried his bindings, and found that it would be easy enough to break should he choose to.

“Let me,” she whispered alluringly into his ear, and he could do nothing but groan in pleasure as she ran her tongue up the line of his ear. She laughed quietly, sultrily, the sound of it causing his arousal to tighten. “Like that, do you?” She let her hands explore, her fingertips running lightly down his chest. She ducked her head, letting her lips follow the trail set by her hands, planting slow, soft kisses on his collarbones, letting her teeth lightly graze his nipples, dipping her tongue into his bellybutton, reveling in the taste of him.

He stood there, lost in the pleasurable assault on his body, his bindings making him exquisitely aware of her every touch, every kiss. His hips jerked against her, unconsciously, pleadingly.

She looked up at him, a smirk on her face, as she brought her hands to the ties on his breeches. He hissed as she _accidentally_ brushed her fingers over his painfully hard erection, snapping his hips forward at her touch. Taking her sweet time, far too slow for his liking, she undid the ties and rolled down his breeches, then sat back on her haunches and hummed appreciatively at the outline of his manhood through his smalls. Slowly, _far too fucking slowly_ she pulled off his smalls. She leaned in, and placed a gentle kiss at the base of his erection, and he snapped. “ _Enough_ ”, he near-roared, and pulled free of his bindings, grabbing her hair and pulling her up, capturing her lips in a hard, brutal kiss.

He pulled at her clothes, desperate to feel her skin against his, ripping the cloth in the process. Once he’d gotten her down to her breast band and her smalls,he pushed her onto his bed, and caged her body in with his.

She swallowed at the sight of the raw, feral look on his face, but did nothing, waiting to see what he would do next.

With a wolfish grin, he bent down to take the edge of her breastband between his teeth, his gaze never leaving hers. She felt herself grow damp; the look he gave her was unquestionably, undeniably _hot_. He untucked the edge of it, then unwound it in record time, exposing her breasts to his gaze.

He said nothing for a few moments, only stared at them, and she felt herself grow shy, and moved to cover them with her hands. At her movement, however, he seemed to jerk back to the moment. “No,” he commanded, pulling her hands away, “not yours any longer.” He lowered his head, sliding the flat of his tongue against one hardened tip. “Mine,” he breathed, as he took it into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, as his hand sought out the other to fondle with his fingers.

She cried out mindlessly, and grabbed at his shoulders with desperate fingers. She arched her back, shamelessly offering herself up to his touch. “Sweet Maker, please, yes,” she sobbed, and he growled. Pulling back to look her in the eyes, he spoke with a snarl, “The only name on your lips will be mine, _vhenan_. Not your Maker, not anyone else, _mine_. Do you understand?” He waited a few seconds to let his command register in her mind, and he watched in satisfaction as she gave a soft whimper and nodded in understanding. He returned to pleasuring her, her mewls of pleasure fueling his own lust. Her skin was soft, so soft, so smooth and silky against his, and he needed to feel every inch of it, first with his hands, then with his tongue.

She writhed under him, his name a constant sob on her lips, and he relished every bit of it. Desperate to see her come undone, he plucked at her pants, unconcerned at the ripping sound it made as it was pulled away from her body. He brushed his fingers across her curls, something dark unfurling in his stomach as he noted how damp they were. 

“Solas… please…” she said, a plea threaded through her voice.

Again that dark feeling bloomed, the satisfaction of hearing her plead. For _him_. For _his_ touch.

He used a finger to lightly trace the seam of her sex, allowed his thumb to brush against her clit. “Is this what you ache for, _vhenan_?” he whispered roughly. She gave a soft cry, and shifted her hips, trying to feel more of his touch. “Is it?” he asked again, placing an unmoving finger on her clit, denying her the pressure he knew she desperately sought. “Yes,” she near-sobbed, “please,” she pleaded. He replaced his finger with his thumb, rubbing circles around the sensitive pearl, and she moaned loudly, uncaring of who heard her. When she was positively _dripping_ her arousal, he slowly inserted a finger into her passage, groaning with pleasure at how _tight_ and _hot_ and _wet_ she felt. She bucked her hips restlessly, seeking more, and he gladly gave it to her, adding a second finger.

She was desperate. His fingers filled her so well, and he pumped them in and out, slow at the start, now fast, keeping her climax maddeningly out of reach. She could feel herself rising, lifting towards that feeling of completion, but never quite reaching it. She barely heard the whimpers and mewls escaping her lips, so desperate was she to reach orgasm.

Finally, _finally_ , he allowed her to climax, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit as his fingers curled inside her, hitting _that_ spot hidden inside. She tumbled off the cliff with his name on her lips, the waves of pleasure crashing over her, crashing into her, robbing her of thought and speech.

She lay back on the bed, panting, as he rose over her, a smug smile on his face. She shivered as he brought his fingers, covered in her slick, to his lips, whimpered as he sucked on them, his eyes on hers. “So good,” he said, a rumble in his voice. She reached out for him, but he evaded her grasp, capturing her hands with one of his. “No, _vhenan’ara_.”

She opened her mouth to grumble, but her voice was stolen away as he raised her knee and sheathed himself within her. A single, fluid stroke brought his hips flush with hers, and she whimpered as she felt him fill her so completely. 

_Home_. That was the only thought running through his mind as he settled himself into her. It was like coming home, like finding the place he truly belonged to. For all the strangeness in this new world, she centered him, made him feel like he belonged.

Then he began to move, and all thought fled from his mind.

She was so tight, he could feel her walls stretching to accommodate him. He gritted his teeth and fought against it, refusing to come before she had reached her peak. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but she would have none of it. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and raised her lips to his ear. “ _Fuck_ me, Solas,” she hissed. “Let go and fuck me.” She clamped her teeth down on his earlobe, hard, to drive home her point.

Her words undid him, and he snapped. He unwound her legs from his waist and pulled her calves over his shoulders, and thrust into her roughly, ferally, all gentleness abandoned.

She threw her head back and cried out, lost in mindless pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, drawing blood, and she raked them down the length of his chest, leaving long, angry red lines in their wake. He covered her lips with his, swallowing her pleas, her moans, her curses as he pounded into her, his kisses as harsh as she craved. She clenched around him each time he withdrew, causing his pace to stutter, and causing Elvish curses she paid no attention to, to tumble from his lips.

This was no gentle lovemaking, no graceful joining of bodies. This was a wild, visceral fucking, an animalistic rutting, and she enjoyed every second of it. She thrilled at his kisses, sang her pleasure at his every bite, knowing it would leave bruises on her skin. She was no maiden, returning his marks with ones of her own, her teeth clamped on his shoulder as he drove into her particularly roughly.

Close, she was so close, and she moved her hips to match his pace. He hissed against her throat, only to bite down at the soft flesh there a moment later. She could feel the tenseness that coiled around his every muscle, could feel the heat that lay under his skin.

Filled by him, full of love for him, she did something she had never done with anyone else.

She opened up her magic, and let the flare of her power flow into him.

He came with a shout, the sounds he made harsh and vicious, the feel of his release in her triggering her own. She called his name out like a prayer as she came, the intensity of her orgasm pulling tears to her eyes. He slumped over her, taking care not to put his all his weight on her, and rolled over so she lay on top of him. He slanted his mouth across hers, his tongue sliding against hers. They lay like that for a long time, long after he had softened within her, his heart thrumming against hers.

At last, she rolled off him, settling against the pillows slightly dazed, smiling as he pulled her close to him. “You know I’m going to have to stay,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “Not only am I in any condition to walk up to my room, but I think I lack clothing as well.”

“They will talk,” he warned, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“Let them,” she said carelessly. She turned, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. “I don’t care, I have you,” she said softly.

She missed the sadness in his eyes at her words, missed the bitter recrimination he wore on his face. When she raised herself to gaze down on him, a small smile danced on his lips.

“What is it?” she asked, the smile on his face drawing out one from her.

“I have just had you, _vhenan_ , and already I crave the taste of you,” he said.

She chuckled and rested her head on his shoulders. “We have time, _ma sa’lath_ ,” she replied with a yawn, “I’ll give you my forever.” She burrowed against him and drifted off to sleep.

While she slept, he gazed at her, something fierce in his eyes.

And he planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ma vhenan/vhenan - My heart
> 
> Ma sa'lath - My one love
> 
> Vhenan'ara - Heart's desire
> 
> I guess I should go over to the Solas trash corner and hang my head >.>


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adamantly attacking Adamant.

She knew, in the days that lay ahead, she would forever be tormented by Adamant Fortress.

Their men, under Cullen’s command, lead the initial charge, battling desperately to forge her a path to the Warden-Commander. She watched, helplessly, as they fell, hit by arrows, sliced by blades, and pelted by the boulders the Warden threw from the ramparts in a bid to stop their sappers from breaking through the gate.

The scent of smoke, of ashes and blood and death lingered heavily in the air, and she could feel it choking her with fear.

She _could not afford_ to be afraid.

She would not be afraid.

She waited, tense, with her companions, who were all equally silent. She was accompanied by Stroud, who she hoped would persuade some of the Grey Wardens to stand down, and Hawke, who refused to stay behind. Solas had bluntly told her he would be with her at all times, and left no room for argument. She’d asked Cassandra and Sera to accompany her, leaving Iron Bull and Blackwall to help with the charges on the battlements.

Finally, the gate was breached, and she headed towards the fortress, where she was met by Cullen. “We’ve got our men on the choke points, Inquisitor. We may not be able to defeat them outright, but we can control the battle. We can cut off the reinforcements. You have your way in, best make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Just keep the men safe. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor.” Cullen replied firmly. “Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She’s assisting them until you arrive.”

_Dammit, Hawke_! She thought. She’d _ordered_ the woman to stay behind in the healer’s tents.

Just then, a piercing scream rang out clearly over the melee, and she looked up at the battlements to see one of their soldiers being flung over the battlement walls. 

She winced. 

“There’s too much resistance on the walls,” Cullen told her frustratedly. “Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.”

“Consider it done, Cullen.” She promised.

They moved deeper into the fortress, every one of them on full alert. They ran into groups of wardens, archers, mages and warriors. Each time she pleaded with them to stand down, but each time they refused. With a heavy heart she cut them all down.

“Take the mages out first!” she called out after they’d finished striking down a group of wardens. “They might be controlling the warrior’s minds. If we take them out early we might be able to persuade the others to stand down.”

It wasn’t only the wardens they had to face. Demons run amok through the fortress, demons of rage, despair and pride. They made their way as quickly as they were able to the battlements, where they faced heavy resistance. There were so many, wardens, and demons alike, all of them baying for their blood. Kiana fretted as the minutes dragged along; she knew each minute that passed meant more corruption among the wardens, meant more demons.

She hacked and sliced her way through, not paying attention to any of the wounds she received, caring only that they cleared the path for their men. On the final battlement, she ran into Hawke, who took one look at her and covered her with a healing spell. She, in turn, managed to throw a barrier over Hawke just as the Pride demons lashed at her with it’s electrified whip, it’s dark, sinister laughter booming into the air.

_I hate Pride demons_ , she thought to herself.

Finally, their men were able to secure the battlements, and she listened to their thanks with only half an ear, moving deeper into the heart of the fortress where she knew the ritual was being conducted. On their way there they ran into yet another group of wardens; this group seemed to be under attack from their brethren, and she quickly jumped into the fight, taking out the mages and demons.

“Stay back!” their leader commanded, a quaver in his voice. “Keep your distance!”

“Warden Chernoff, we are not enemies!” Stroud called out gravely.

“Why should I trust you, Stroud?” the man spat out bitterly. “You’re a traitor to the Wardens. Clarel called for your death!”

She gritted her teeth and tamped down the fury that threatened to rise up her throat. _Idiot. He was defending himself, could see that the mages had lost their minds, and still could not see the truth._

“Clarel has lost her way,” Stroud said resignedly.

“You expect me to turn on my fellow wardens, like you did?” Chernoff accused.

_Time to put an end to this._ “The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill wardens!” she called out, her voice commanding. “If you fall back, you won’t be harmed.”

The terrified Warden looked at her, and nodded. “All right. My men will fight along with you, Inquisitor. What is happening… is not right. Deal with Clarel as you must.”

She gave a sigh of relief. 

They reached the main bailey at last, and came face-to-face with more warden warriors battling demons. _Why the fuck would Clarel even consider this?_ She thought in disgust. _The woman will pay for her stupidity,_ she vowed. 

Again, they fought their way through the demons, calling on the warden warriors to help out their men. With Blackwall and Stroud present, they managed to persuade several of the wardens to aid their cause. Which was a relief to all of them, for they knew that the worst of the battle was yet to come.

She received a quick update from Ser Briony. “We stopped as many as we could,” she said. “Our forces are taking heavy losses against the demons, but we will hold, Inquisitor.” 

Kiana stuffed that piece of information far away from her working mind. She knew she could not afford to ruminate on the deaths of her men. She gave a quick nod and moved ahead, finally reaching the heart of the fortress.

There, she spied a massive rift, which was surrounded by several warden mages. The mages were being defended by more than a two dozen warriors and archers. Up on the bartizan stood Warden Commander Clarel, and Erimond.

She watched helplessly as Clarel slit the throat of an elderly warden, just as Erimond caught sight of her.

“Stop them!” he ordered. “We must complete the ritual!”

She noted with a modicum of relief that they hadn’t brought a demon through the rift… _yet._

She held out a hand to her companions, and took a few steps forward. Several of the warden warriors stepped forward, anticipating a fight.

“Clarel!” she called out, loud and clear, “If you complete the ritual, you’re doing exactly what Erimond wants!”

He scoffed. “What? Fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn’t want that? And yes. The ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the wardens for doing their duty.” he crossed his arms confidently.

_Oh, the smarmy fuckass was good,_ she thought. _But if he thinks he can bring me down…_

Clarel spoke up. “We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.”

_You utter, utter fool. You have **killed** good men for no reason other than your ignorance._ She seethed. She would personally take Clarel’s head for this. Her hands twitched, itching for her blades.

“And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!” Stroud said angrily.

She could see Clarel falter. “Corypheus? But he’s dead…”

Erimond sidled up to the Warden Commander. “Clarel, they will say anything to shake your confidence.” he threw them an accusing look, a smirk in his eyes.

She watched with bated breath as Clarel rubbed her temples. _Come on, Clarel. See the truth! See through his lies!_

When Clarel’s hand dropped down, her face was resolute. Kiana’s heart sank.

“Bring it through,” the Warden Commander ordered.

_Arseballs._

The warden mages cast a spell, and she understood that they served as a summoning circle. She froze; how many innocent spirits had they hurt in this manner? She exchanged a look with Solas, who was equally horrified. She moved forward, desperate to stop them from injuring another innocent party, her companions following her. The wardens blocked her path, several of the mages already beginning to summon fireballs.

Before she could say anything, Hawke spoke up. “Please! I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!”

The warden warriors hesitated as they recognized the Champion of Kirkwall.

The rift shuddered, and opened wider.

She heard Erimond talk to the Warden Commander. “Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength.”

She called out in desperation. “Listen to me! I have no quarrel with the wardens! I spared those I could! I don’t _want_ to kill you! But you’re being used… and some of you know it, don’t you?” She looked at them beseechingly. 

Finally, one of the warriors spoke up hesitantly. “The mages who’ve done the ritual? They’re not right. They were my friends… but now they’re like puppets on a string.

“You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Fergus!” Clarel said.

Hawke scoffed. “He’s not afraid, you are. You’re afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing.”

“I honor your bravery, my brothers and sister,” Stroud added gravely. “But this is not the way. You have been tricked.”

The wardens looked towards their Commander, confusion ripe within their ranks. Kiana could see even Clarel was unsure.

“Clarel, we’ve come so far,” Erimond said persuasively. “You are the only one who can do this.”

“Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges… to avoid more bloodshed,” Clarel said after a long pause.

At her words, Erimond’s face twisted from persuasive concern to something sneering and dark. “Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally,” he said, curling his lip. He faced her. “My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you” He tapped his staff against the stone.

In the distance, an all-too-familiar screech rang out in the sky.

Kiana tensed.

They were not prepared for this.

_Not again_ , she thought despairingly. Solas must have had the same idea, for he came and stood by her side. They could see Corypheus’ dragon soaring in the sky, saw it swooping down, taking aim at them. 

This time, they weren’t entirely unprepared. They dived out of it’s path, taking shelter behind the stone statues that lined the courtyard. It circled the fortress, breaking through the towers on the ramparts, causing rubble to pelt the men and women who stood in the bailey. Finally, it came to a rest on the turret, its head facing the magister.

From her cover, Kiana saw the Warden Commander taking a few steps backward, wearing the look of one who has been utterly betrayed. With a wave of her hand, Clarel sent out a powerful lightning bolt at the magister, who immediately fell. She saw the dragon turn its ugly head towards Clarel, and cried out a warning.

Clarel looked furiously determined and gathered up her power. Kiana could see the crackle of a powerful thunderbolt forming around Clarel’s clenched fist… as did Erimond. “Clarel, wait!” he cried out, but she took no notice of him, and sent the spell flying towards the dragon.

The spell only served to infuriate the dragon, and it released a fireball which only barely missed the Warden Commander. Kiana saw Erimond getting to his feet and running away. “Help the Inquisitor!” the older woman commanded her wardens before giving chase to the magister.

“We have to follow Clarel!” Kiana shouted.

But their path was blocked by the possessed mages, who had summoned yet another Pride demon through the rift. They had to battle their way through, their fight being easier thanks to help from the remaining wardens. The entire time they were all on guard, constantly aware of the dragon circling above their heads. They dodged several flame breaths, constantly running to avoid serving as a target for the flying beast.

It wasn’t easy trying to reach the Warden Commander. Demons littered their path. Each time they encountered them, they had to stop and fight… and each time they would be hit by the dragon’s fire spit. Between Solas, herself and Hawke, they were constantly covering everyone in barriers for protection. She’d never been more thankful that she was a mage. She had to keep everyone alive. She had to.

Especially since the damned dragon was targeting _her_.

“You should fall back!” she told the others. “The beast is focused on me. You’re all in danger if you stay with me!”

They all looked at her, unimpressed. “Fat chance, yeah?” Sera said.

They pressed on, fire and chaos, death and destruction all around them. Determination surrounded the group, a grim sort, the kind that would not let them falter, that would not take any prisoners.

Finally they reached Clarel, who was advancing on Erimond, disrupting his attacks with ease. She saw that there was no way out for the magister; the section of the ramparts was broken, a steep fall to the ground below.

“You!” Clarel spat in fury. “You’ve destroyed the Grey Wardens!”

_It wasn’t just him, Clarel_. She thought to herself.

With a sweep of her staff, the Warden Commander effortlessly disarmed the magister. Clarel stood in front of him, looming over him. Erimond laughed, a sneer in his voice. “You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch. All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn’t wait to get your hands bloody.”

For all that Kiana hated Erimond, she had to agree with him on that point. Clarel was given the choice, and she made the decision. The fault also lay with her. Clarel snarled, and with a sweep of her staff, hit Erimond with a massive force spell that caused him to hit the rampart walls, hard.

Kiana heard the sound of a bone breaking, and smiled grimly. _The bastard deserves it._

“You could have served a new god,” Erimond rasped out.

“I will **never** serve the Blight.” Clarel spat out, venom in her voice. 

She stepped forward, intending to talk to Clarel… 

… but the dragon got to the Warden Commander before she could. Snatching her up in it’s massive jaws, she could hear it crushing the warden’s bones. It flew off with her, landing on the towers, before tossing the woman onto the ramparts where Kiana stood.

Miraculously, the woman was still alive.

Kiana rushed towards the Warden Commander, but the dragon began to advance on her. Slowly, she backed away, keenly aware there was no escape route for herself and her companions. She ran through several scenarios in her head, trying to piece together a plan that would let the others escape.

Her heart lurched as Clarel tried to weakly raise herself. “In war, victory,” the woman murmured, her words ringing clearly in Kiana’s ears. Clarel rolled onto her back, blood pouring out of the myriad wounds in her body. “In peace, vigilance.”

Kiana understood what the woman was doing. “In death, sacrifice,” she whispered, as Clarel struck the dragon with another thunderbolt, causing the creature to skid and stumble, screeching loudly, and fall off the ramparts.

Her relief was only momentary. She felt the stones beneath her crack and break away. The spell the Warden Commander had unleashed had been immensely powerful, unexpectedly so. She cried out in alarm as the ramparts began to crumble beneath her feet. They ran as fast as they could, trying to get to stable ground, but it happened too quickly, the cracks spread out too fast for them to outrun. The solidity of the stone gave way, and she found herself falling, plummeting through the air towards the unforgiving ground that lay below. She felt her life zipping past her, felt the despair take over; Corypheus would succeed in his plans if she were dead.

_My friends will die._

_Solas will die._

In desperation, she flung out her Anchor in front of her. There was a flash of green light, the sound of something ripping, tearing apart, a bright, golden glow… 

And then there was silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, Clarel. I understand that the Wardens will do anything to stop the Blight, but really? Turning to Tevinter and blood magic? Why?


	48. Chapter 48

Kiana saw the ground beneath her head, a strange, sickly green color, and braced herself for impact. To her surprise, her fall came to an abrupt halt, and she found herself suspended in air. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out, and touched the ground with a finger.

Whatever spell had been cast broke, and she landed on the ground with a solid  _ thud _ .

Scrambling to her feet, she looked around, utterly puzzled, the world around her setting itself right as she did so.  _ This isn’t Adamant _ , she thought, worriedly.  _ Am I dead? _

“Where are we?” A voice to her left claimed her attention, and she saw Stroud… walking on a wall? She blinked. No, the man was definitely perpendicular to her. She looked around, relief flooding through her as she spied Hawke, then Sera, and Cassandra… and finally,  _ Solas _ . She ran her eyes over him, slightly reassured that he did not seem to be gravely injured.

“We were falling,” Hawke spoke up, her voice colored with confusion. “Is this… are we… dead? she asked, hesitantly.

“No,” Solas replied. He sounded… excited? Kiana stared at him in confusion. “This is the Fade.”

His announcement was not met with the same excitement his face held. Five people stared back at him, all displaying various degrees of concern and terror.

He continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through… and  _ survived _ .” he said in wonder. He looked at her, his excitement mounting, as though she had given him the most magnificent gift in the world. “I never thought I would find myself here physically,” he breathed. “Look!” he marvelled. “The Black City. Almost close enough to touch.”

_ The Fade. The fucking Fade. In the flesh. Alive.  _ The thought made her head spin.  _ Impossible. This is impossible. No one can walk the Fade in the flesh. _

“This is incredible,” she said, in response to his expectant look. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth - that she was more than a little fearful.

“What spirit commands this place?” Solas wondered. “I have never seen anywhere like it.”

Something about that statement triggered Kiana’s instincts, but it was fleeting and momentary, her mind focused on more important matters.

“The Fade looked much different the last time I was here.” Hawke puzzled.

“Maybe it’s because we’re here, physically, instead of just dreaming?” she replied. “I do not recall the Fade looking quite so… sinister.”

Because it was sinister. The ground pulsated with it, the air around them reeked of fear and despair and terror. Kiana was uncomfortable, every nerve on edge. This wasn’t the Fade she was used to, this wasn’t the place where she sought out knowledge and conversed with friendly spirits.

“The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven,” Kiana realized Hawke was addressing her. “Was it like this?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I still have no memory of what happened before Haven. Maybe it was? Who knows. Right now, I’m more concerned about finding a way out of here.” She tried using her Anchor to open up another rift, but it only hummed and glowed dully in response. “The Anchor isn’t working,” she said, slightly panicked.

“It appears you lack the energy necessary to open another rift, Inquisitor,” Solas mentioned with a frown.

“There was a huge rift, where Erimond was summoning the demon,” Stroud recalled. “Perhaps we can use that as an exit.”

To her frustration, Sera decided that it was the most appropriate time to have a meltdown. “Shitballs, fuck, shit, crap, Fade shit, arse, demons, crap!” she fell to pieces,  curling herself up into a ball and rocking herself back and forth.” Kiana sat down next to her, wrapping her arms around the terrified young woman, and soothed. “Yes, we’re in the Fade, but you’re not alone Sera, I’m here. Come on now, if you panic, we can’t find a way out. You don’t want to be stuck in here forever, do you?” She managed to calm the young elf down, and though clearly not happy, Sera managed to gain some strength and pull herself together.

“The rift the demons came out in the real world was close, in the main hall,” Stroud said. “Can we escape the same way?”

She gazed into the distance, and her eyes caught the swirling mists that surrounded a rift. Taking a deep breath in to calm herself down, she spoke determinedly. “Let’s find out. It’s better than hanging around, waiting for demons to find us, right?” She turned to Cassandra, who had been silent. “Cassandra, are you alright?”

The Seeker started at the mention of her name. “Yes,” she replied stoically. “I am not used to… this place. It feels very strange to me. I feel as though I must purge the air I breathe.”

“It is your Seeker abilities rising to the surface,” Solas commented. “Be on your guard, Seeker. The Fade is familiar to mages, but will seem unfamiliar to you. You must stay close to us.” Cassandra grunted in reply.

They pressed forward, walking over ground that did not quite feel like ground, wading through pools of rotting slime. The landscape was dark and dreary, the walls dripping strange fluids she had no interest in analyzing, and the stench of decay was interwoven with sheer, undiluted fear. Kiana found herself gagging several times, and noticed she wasn’t the only one - her companions all seemed extremely uncomfortable in their surrounding. Even Solas, who had initially shown so much excitement, had pressed a clenched fist to his mouth several times.

“This is fascinating,” Solas broke the silence. “It is not the area I would have chose, of course. But to physically walk through the Fade…” he sighed dreamily.

“Shut it, arsebiscuit,” Sera hissed. “No one wants to hear your elfyness go on about demonland, yeah? So fucking be quiet and find a way out of here!”

“Everybody stay calm,” Kiana tried to calm fraying nerves. She desperately wanted to fall apart, desperately hoped this was nothing but a bad dream, but alas, it wasn’t, and she knew she had to keep it together to get everyone out safely. “Sera, if what Solas says bothers you, don’t pay attention to it. However, he  _ is _ the person with the best knowledge of the Fade, so I will have to defer to his advice.” She turned to Solas. “Do you have any advice?”

“Only this,” he said, a small smile on his face as though he knew what she was doing, and understood. “The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion. Remain focused, and it will lead you to where you wish to go.”  

“I do not think it is quite that simple,” Cassandra noted drily.

Kiana sighed. “Strong emotions will attract demons. Stay calm, and you will have nothing to worry about.”

“The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful,” Solas noted. “Some variety of fear, I would guess.”

“Frigging great,” Sera muttered. “Bitchball demons.”

They entered a small clearing, and instantly  _ everyone _ did a double take.

With very good reason.

In front of them stood the Divine.

As though she had been expecting them.

_ Fuck, _ Kiana thought.  _ This isn’t looking good. _

“By the Maker,” Stroud gasped, “Could it be…?”

“Divine Justinia!” Cassandra stammered out. “Her Most Holy!”

Kiana swallowed. They were in the Fade.  _ The realm of spirits, not people _ , she reminded herself.

“I greet you, Warden,” the Divine spoke. “And you, Champion.”

Kiana found her voice. “From the little I remember of what happened at Haven, I thought you were dead.” she spoke, trying to keep her voice level.

Stroud was the voice of reason. “I fear the Divine is indeed dead. It is likely we face a spirit… or a demon.”

“You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves,” the Divine - or her spirit? - pointed out. “In truth, proving my existence either way require time we do not have.”

“Surely you can understand our concerns and explain what you are,” Hawke countered.

“I am here to help you,” was all she got in reply. The Divine addressed her. “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor.” she stated.

“The real Divine would not know I had been appointed as Inquisitor,” Kiana said suspiciously. The Divine smiled enigmatically. “The memories you have lost were taken by the demon that serves Corypheus,” she commented, ignoring Kiana’s statement. She started pacing. “It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work.”

Stroud bristled in fury. “I would gladly avenge the insult this nightmare dealt my brethren,” he swore.

“You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair.”

“Can you help us get out of the Fade?” Cassandra asked hesitantly.

“That is why I found you,” the Divine replied. “When you entered the Fade at Haven,” she said, turning to face Kiana, “the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover them.”

She pointed. “These are your memories, Inquisitor.” A flash of light, and several wraiths appeared, flittering about.

They fought the wisps, each of them shattering into a memory that rushed into Kiana’s mind. When she had regained the last of them, it became too overwhelming for her and she doubled over, the lost memories locking into their places in the spaces of her mind.

To her surprise, her memories began playing out… in front of all of them. It was as though she was projecting her mind into the area around her.

They all watched the Divine being held against her will by Grey Warden mages, as Corypheus approached her with the orb in hand, clearly intent on sacrificing her in his quest to unlock it. The Divine cried out helplessly, and she sorrowed at the sight of the old woman’s pain and terror.

She watched herself fling the doors open. “What’s going on here?” Distracting Corypheus, who looked at her. They saw the Divine use the distraction to knock the orb away from his hand, watched as the orb rolled towards her. Kiana’s throat tightened as she watched herself pick up the orb, watched herself cry out in pain as the orb fused with her hand, as the magic in it pushed its way through her skin and into her.

Watched as Corypheus rushed at her, utterly furious.

As the orb exploded with a force, knocking him backwards.

And then it all faded away.

Everyone shook their heads, as though clearing away cobwebs - all except her. She was staring at her hand, at the quietly pulsing mark on her hand.

_ A mistake, _ she thought.  _ I was at the wrong place at the right time. _

She remembered more. She had gone to the Conclave as part of a group of mages, offering them whatever protection she could. On the day of the Conclave, both the mages and templars had gathered in the hall, along with all the other important people, and everyone had been awaiting the Divine.

The Divine had been late, and there had been muttering.

But something had triggered her instincts, and she had wandered off, trying to gather information. To her alarm, she had found several dead bodies - most of them she had recognized as part of the Divine’s retinue. She had followed the trail of bodies, and had become increasingly alarmed as she noted the lack of security. She had been about to call for help when she had heard someone cry out for help, and had rushed in.

Without thinking, of course. She never stopped to think. Hadn’t even  _ thought _ about backup.

She found everyone looking at her with a strange sort of sympathy.

“So,” Hawke said, breaking the tension. “Your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb that Corypheus used in his ritual.”

“Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City,” the Divine explained. “Not for the old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead.”

Solas smiled grimly.  _ The orb had bestowed the Anchor upon her because it had recognized her, recognized her relationship to him _ , he thought. Corypheus could have gained that power, but at great cost. Which was probably why he had intended to use the Divine as a sacrifice.

Kiana realized everyone was waiting for her response. She shrugged. “It’s what I suspected,” she said. “I always did say that I wasn’t the Herald of Andraste, and this proves it.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at her, not quite buying into her calm demeanor. “That is all you have to say?” she asked.

“Yes.” she replied evenly. “I never thought Andraste did this.” Her voice turned slightly bitter. “I did this myself. No Maker required.”

Solas felt a pang of guilt in his heart. She had only been trying to help - as was her nature - and in doing so her entire destiny had been altered.

_ Still, better her than Corypheus _ , he thought.

“And now you may be certain,” the Divine stated. “You cannot escape the lair of the nightmare until you recover all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste,” the Divine warned. “I will prepare the way ahead.”

With that, she vanished, leaving Kiana in little doubt that she was, in fact, a spirit and not the Divine herself. She exchanged a look with Solas and Hawke, and knew they had reached the same conclusion.

“Those were Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision,” Cassandra angrily addressed Stroud. “Their actions lead to her death!”

“I assume he had taken their minds, as you have seen Erimond do,” Stroud replied calmly. He was always calm, always rational, never given to recklessness. Kiana found herself admiring the man’s character. “Come, we can argue after we escape this dark place,” he finished.

Cassandra gave him a baleful glare. “Oh, I intend to.” The Seeker turned towards Solas. “Do you believe it was really her? The Divine, I mean.”

Solas replied carefully, measuring his words. “We have survived in the Fade physically. Perhaps she did as well. Or, if it is a spirit that has identified so strongly with Justinia that it believes it is her, how can we say it is not?”

“No demon would have been so helpful without asking something in return,” Hawke interjected.

“What of the demon she mentioned? This nightmare sounds dangerous,” Kiana asked softly, trying not to alarm Sera.

“It is a fear demon, as I suspected, drawing on fears related to the Blight,” Solas replied, keeping his voice low. She made a moue of distaste, and his lips curled upwards ever so slightly. “Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion… every emotion save perhaps desire.” he added.

She nodded, absorbing the information.

“Be wary,” he said, his voice reaching everyone’s ears. “The nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve.”

_ Well, fan-fucking-tastic _ , she thought dourly. As if she needed more material for nightmares.

They doggedly moved on, fighting through demons and angry spirits, and their morale had only just increased when the taunting started.

“Ah, we have a visitor,” a voice boomed out. It was sly, cunning and malicious, and Kiana felt a shiver run up her spine. “Some foolish little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders.”

Everyone turned towards Kiana to see how she would react. She forced herself to remain calm, opting instead to immolate a shade that wandered too close to them.

“You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten,” it warned, the voice slithering up her limbs. She gave herself a shake, pushing the unpleasant sensation away.

“You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel?” it taunted, snickering. “The only one who grows stronger from your fears is  **me** . But you are a guest here, in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.”

With effort, she made herself push his words away from her mind. Solas gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and the action calmed her considerably, and grounded her. They made their way, gaining ground towards their exit, all of them now silent now that the nightmare had made its presence known.

She turned a corner and found her path blocked by figures who resembled her friends… only corrupted by red lyrium, like she had seen in the future at Redcliffe. Choking back a cry, she gripped her daggers so hard her knuckles turned white, and ran straight at them, slicing through them, reminding herself that  _ these were not her friends _ , and that  _ her friends were safe _ , chanting the latter over and over in her head in an effort to remain focused.

“Perhaps  _ I _ should be afraid,” the nightmare resumed its taunting, “facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” It let out a mocking laugh, and from the corner of her eye she could see Sera wilting a little.

“You definitely should,” she called out, forcing her voice to sound cheery. Her emboldened reply seemed to perk up her companions, as she hoped it would.

“Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra,” it jibed. “Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your ‘faith’ has been for naught.”

“Die in the Void, demon,” Cassandra enunciated each word with a venom that was entirely unexpected. Kiana found her way to the Seeker’s side and gave her arm a comforting press.

The nightmare was only getting started, though.

“Sera, Sera, Sera. If you shoot an arrow at me, I’ll know where you are,” the voice mocked.

“Out of my head, bitchballs!” Sera cried out in panic.

“The demon lies,” Solas said, trying to offer comfort. “It is preying on our fears, trying to break our resolve. Do not give in.” Sera gave him a shaky nod.

“Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God? Fenris will die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.”

“Keep talking, shitface,” Hawke hissed through gritted teeth.

“Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the wardens, only to watch them fall? Or worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?”

“With the Maker’s blessing, we will end this wretched beast,” Stroud vowed.

“Tell me, Inquisitor, how does it feel, knowing that you will fail your friends once again, just as you failed Laura? Will you turn your head away, ignore the problem? Will you stay silent, even as you know the truth?  No one can ever love someone like you. No one ever will.”

Keenly aware of Solas’ eyes on her, she gave a careless shrug. “Is that all you got?” she replied breezily. “I expected more.” Deep down, she felt her guts churn and twist, and tamped it down, desperate to keep those emotions from her face. If she showed any doubt, the others would too, and they could not afford that.

They caught sight of the Divine ahead, and moved towards her with a measure of relief. But the nightmare had one more taunt.

“ _ Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din.” _

Eyes wide, she looked at Solas. He carefully avoided her gaze, his face as calm and composed as his reply.  _ “Banal nadas.” _

She stored that away in her mind.

They reached the Divine, and she appeared slightly agitated. “The nightmare is closer now. It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger.”

They found more of the wraiths that held Kiana’s memories, and set about recovering them. As it had before, the flood of memories projected from her mind, and once again everyone could see what had taken place.

She saw herself  _ inside _ the Breach at Haven, climbing up a steep wall, fearlings chasing hungrily after her. At the edge of the rift was the Divine…  _ alive _ … holding out her hand, offering help. She watched as the Kiana in the memory clambered up desperately, and took the Divine’s hand. They ran towards the rift, fleeing the demons so close on their tail… and saw the Divine let out a scream, being pulled back by a fear demon. She watched herself struggle to free the Divine, watched helplessly as resignation washed over the elderly woman’s face. Heard the urgently whispered, “Go!”

And watched herself abandon the Divine to make her own escape.

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed thickly.  _ My fault, _ she thought.  _ I should have done more _ .

“It was you,” she said softly. “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died.”

The Divine hung her head sadly. “Yes,” she said.

“So this creature is simply a spirit,” Stroud realized.

“I think we all knew that was the case, warden,” Hawke sniped.

“I am sorry if I disappoint you,” the spirit taking the form of the Divine said.  A golden light washed over her, growing in intensity until it turned so intense they had to shield their eyes. When they reopened them, the Divine had disappeared, and in its place stood… or more accurately, hovered… a spirit.

Kiana eyed the glowing golden spirit. She recognized the spirit as a spirit of faith, one that had identified closely with the Divine, which was probably why it had taken an interest in them. For that, she was grateful; without its help she knew they would not have gotten very far.

“The only thing that is important right now is getting out of the Fade,” Kiana stated, trying to be pragmatic. “Whatever you are, you’ve helped us so far.”

“What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens,” Cassandra commented angrily.

Stroud turned towards the Seeker, his face showing his irritation. “As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant.”

“Yes, Adamant. Where the Inquisition faces an army of demons raised by the Wardens,” Hawke derided.

“How dare you judge us!” Stroud spat. “You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

_ Uncalled for, _ Kiana thought. Before she could defend Hawke, the short-haired woman replied. “To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic!” she bellowed. “Even without the influence of Corypheus, the Wardens go too far. They need to be checked.”

To Kiana’s complete surprise, Solas agreed with the Champion. “Agreed. The wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now.”

Kiana was baffled. She knew, having met the Hero of Ferelden, that only a Grey Warden could slay the Archdemon and end the Blight. Did no one seem to think about the future? What would happen if there were no Wardens when a new Blight started?

Sera echoed her thoughts. “Wardens are there to stop the Blight, yeah? Going to be hard to do that if none of them are around.”

_ Focus, Kiana _ . “Sweet Maker, could both of you please shut up? We can argue once we’ve escaped from the giant fear demon!” she exclaimed.

Both of them gave her alarmed looks.  _ Did I say something wrong? _ She wondered. “Inquisitor!” Stroud called out in warning. She turned around to find spiders.  _ Lots _ of spiders, resembling the fearlings from her vision, approaching them.

“The nightmare has found us!” the spirit exclaimed.

“Form up!” Kiana called out.

“I am with you,” Solas replied, coming to stand by her side.

They took down the fearlings one by one, till their armors were covered in more ichor than blood, the nightmare still taunting them.

_ Eolas’as’ehn na deas, harellan? Lathemah’as’my?”  _

She froze when she heard it taunt Solas again. Twice now it had referred to him as trickster, and she didn’t know why. And why would it imply she did not know who he was? Again she tucked the information away, intending to talk to him about it later.

If there  _ was _ a later.

“Do you think you can fight me?” the nightmare jeered. “I am your every fear come to life! I am the veiled hand of Corypheus himself! The demon army you fear? **I** command it. They are bound all through me!”

The spirit answered his taunt. “Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life.”

Kiana gave a weak chuckle at the roar of rage the nightmare gave.

They found their way blockaded by barriers, and battled more demons while simultaneously trying to break the barrier. It was long and tiresome, and Kiana was soon drained of mana between casting barriers and healing spells, but soon they had accomplished it.

She feared at this rate, they would be too tired, too worn out to battle the nightmare demon.

She feared they would never escape.

She feared she would fail.

Solas noticed her flagging. The signs were subtle, and the others had not noticed it, but she was  _ his _ and knew her intimately where the others did not. He made his way over to her. “How are you holding up?” he asked,  _ sotto voce _ .

“Fine,” she said, mustering up a weak smile.

Unconvinced, he cupped her face in his hands. “We will make our way out of here,  _ vhenan _ . We will. We will defeat the nightmare, we will escape, we will all escape, alive. I am with you.” he vowed, looking straight into her eyes.

She inhaled, then exhaled out in a rush. “Yes,” she said, and he was pleased to see the determination return to her eyes once more. “You’re right. We’re going to get out of here.”

In a last-ditch attempt to faze them, the nightmare shrouded their path in mist. When it finally lifted, they found themselves in the middle of a cemetery.

A cemetery, where they were all buried.

Figuratively, of course.

Kiana felt herself wanting to heave as she spied the tombstones with her friends’ names on them. In an effort to snap herself out of it, she forced herself to read each one.

_ Blackwall - himself _

_ Cole- despair _

Her stomach recoiled as she realized the gravestones held her companion’s greatest fears.

_ Sera - the nothing _

_ Dorian - temptation _

_ Cassandra - helplessness _

_ Varric - becoming his parents _

_ Vivienne - irrelevance _

_ Iron Bull - madness _

Forcing herself to breathe normally, she walked over to the last two.

_ Kiana - inadequacy _

_ Solas - dying alone _

Her hand instinctively sought out his, and she gripped it tight, squeezing it in an unspoken promise that she would never let that happen. They stood there for several moments, each gazing down at the other’s greatest fear.

The spirit found them, and guided them onto the right path, the glow emanating from it lighting their way, and its presence serving to comfort them. Soon, they reached a large clearing, and hope swelled in their breasts. The rift lay ahead of them, a short distance away.

“You must get through the rift, Inquisitor!” the spirit said urgently. “Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength! That will banish the army of demons - and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

“The rift!” Hawke exclaimed. “We’re almost there!”

They stopped short at the sight that awaited them.

A massive fear demon blocked their path, six arms, six legs and a face that would haunt her for  _ atleast _ a month.

But that wasn’t their biggest concern.

Their biggest concern was what was  _ behind _ the fear demon.

The Nightmare.

It was the size of the stables at Skyhold, with a height to match. It vaguely resembled a spider, with its numerous appendages, and twitching, hungry, jaws that held several rows of very sharp teeth.

It was also positively  _ covered _ in eyes.

The hundreds of eyes were all pointed in their direction, and she could hear Sera gagging behind her. Kiana didn’t blame the archer. She rather felt like joining her herself.

_ How are we going to get by _ ?

Everyone looked at each other, concerned. Together, they might be able to take out the fear demon and then the nightmare, but they could not fight both at once, and they knew it.

The spirit floated ahead of them, towards the nightmare. “If you would, please tell Leliana, ‘I am sorry. I failed you too’.” With that cryptic statement, the spirit crackled with energy, glowing brighter and brighter, until with a blinding flash, it sacrificed itself to take down the nightmare.

Kiana had a moment of sorrow.  _ Yet another spirit falls to Corypheus _ , she thought sadly. But the spirit of faith’s sacrifice meant that they only had one obstacle in their path - the fear demon.

It was a hard fought battle, given how they were all already exhausted from all their previous fights, and they were at the end of their stamina. But the knowledge that they were so close to their exit allowed them to draw from their deepest reserves, and soon, they had vanquished the fear demon.

They all ran towards the rift, and she pushed the others ahead of her. She saw Sera exit, followed by Cassandra; gave a sigh of relief as Solas entered the real world. She, Hawke and Stroud were lagging behind, and she turned around to call them over hurriedly, when she noticed their attention was elsewhere.

And in a matter of seconds, understood.

Spider-like feet dropped down on her, and she could see the eyes leering at her, unblinking.

_ Nightmare. _

She rushed back to where Hawke and Stroud remained, and the three of them watched as the massive demon towered over them, their exit so tantalizingly close.

_ We are too few. We cannot take it down _ , Kiana realized in panic, not noticing the look that Hawke and Stroud exchanged. They gave each other a nod of understanding, and Stroud rushed towards the demon, his sword drawn, while Hawke grabbed Kiana’s arm and ran towards the rift.

“Hawke, what are you doing!” she exclaimed. “We need to help Stroud!” Ignoring her, Hawke pulled her through the rift to the real world. “Close it, Kiana!” she urged, stress coloring her voice.

“We have to go back and get Stroud!” Kiana said stubbornly.

“If we go back, we all die!” Hawke declared, shaking her. “More demons will come out! You must close it! Stroud knew what he was doing. He sacrificed himself to save you. Don’t let him down!”

With a horrified heart, Kiana raised the Anchor and pulled the edges of the rift together to seal them shut. As she did, the demons in the vicinity exploded.

She was met with the exulting cries of the Inquisition. All around they stood and cheered, their cries drawing the rest of her friends towards her, all of whom looked relieved to see her alive.

But her heart was heavy with the price she had been forced to pay.

“She was right,” Hawke said, approaching her. “Without the nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army.” The Champion of Kirkwall gave her a wry smile. “Though as far as they’re all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the help of the Maker.”

Kiana sighed. “Once they understand what really happened…”

Hawke frowned. “Honestly, after all the death they’ve seen… perhaps it would be better to let them believe the legend.”

Before Kiana could reply, a scout ran up to her, and informed her that the archdemon had fled as soon as she had disappeared, and that Erimond was unconscious, but alive, and was in Cullen’s custody.

_ I’ll deal with him later, _ she thought. And she would  _ make him pay _ for all that he’d wrought.

“As for the Wardens,” the scout added, “those who weren’t corrupted helped us fight the demons.” Just as he finished, one of the warden warriors came up to her.  Placing a fist over his heart, he vowed, “We stand ready to make up for Clarel’s… tragic mistake.”

And then he asked the question that pierced her heart. “Where is Stroud?”

She closed her eyes.  _ Give me strength _ . She knew she needed to be diplomatic - it was what was expected of her, after all - but she was angry, too angry at the Warden’s lack of thought, at how they had betrayed Stroud, too angry at all the unnecessary lives lost.

“Warden Stroud is dead, thanks to all of you,” she spat, fury in her voice. He alone stood against Clarel’s madness. If not for him, you’d all be dead - or slaves to a servant of the Blight.” Her voice rang out, fury mounting. “And you repaid that by branding him a traitor!”

The warden before her spoke meekly. “Inquisitor. We have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?”

_ Another result of Clarel’s fucking decision _ .

She took a deep breath in. As much as she wanted to tell them to fuck right off, she couldn’t. Not when Stroud had believed so deeply in them. Not when he had fought by her side, fought to defend her.

Not when he had traded his life for hers.

“You stay and do whatever you can to help,” she said sternly, much to the shock of her companions. “Stroud died believing that the Wardens were a force for good,” she said, the a slight quaver in her voice. “I am willing to give the rest of you one final chance to prove it. You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly the Venatori, but there are plenty of demons and red templars that need killing.”

She could hear the discontented murmurs of her companions, and several of the soldiers, but she ignored them. Only Hawke gave her an understanding look

“Thank you, your Worship,” the young warden told her, his tone relieved. She nodded, and directed the men to conduct one last sweep of the fortress. Giving orders to Harding to fetch her if she was required at Adamant, she stumbled towards the nearest  _ taiseach _ . She needed to get back to Skyhold, needed to get away from the madness. Hawke accompanied her, brushing away the rest of her companions who tried to approach her.

She was in no mood to face any of them.

They arrived at Skyhold, where Kiana ordered baths drawn up for the both of them, and a meal sent up to her quarters. Once she was free of all the blood, and ichor, and flesh that was stuck to herself and her armor, she allowed herself to curl up in front of the fireplace and cry, weeping for Stroud, for all the soldiers they had lost, for all the Wardens who lost their lives due to the folly of a single woman. She cried for the knowledge that her decision to attack Adamant had lead to good men and women dying, and she cried because she knew there had been no other choice.

Finally, exhausted from her ordeal and the tears she had shed, she passed out in front of the fire, her meal untouched.

That was where Solas found her, her face stained with tears, her eyes twitching as though she were in the middle of a nightmare. Lifting her gently so as to not disturb her, he carried her into bed, and held her tight, curling up around her protectively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Eolas’as’ehn na deas, harellan? Lathemah’as’my? (does she know who you are, trickster? Would she love you after?)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Writing about the Fade is always so tough, and I never enjoy it. Consequently, plenty of in-game dialogue here.


	49. Chapter 49

She woke up from a nightmare about the nightmare, her heart racing. No matter how she tried to guide her dreams, it always ended up with the sight of Stroud racing towards the demon, and she could hear his screams as the demon tore him apart.

The moonlight flooded in through her windows, and she could hear the wind outside rustling softly. As her heartbeat returned to normal, she noticed she was not alone in her bed. Solas was next to her, watching her, his eyes roving over her face. He didn’t ask her if she had had a bad dream, and for that she was glad. She was in no mood to talk about it.

She rolled out of bed, wrapping herself up in her warm robe before adding more wood to the fire. With a lazy flick of her wrist, she lit all the candles in the room before turning back to him.

“Has everyone returned?” she asked quietly.

“Most, yes. Cullen is overseeing the men and the remaining Wardens. The soldiers have not returned; they will be marching back in groups. Many have been injured; they will return later once the worst of their wounds have been tended to.” Solas replied calmly.

“How many did we lose?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

He hesitated. “The Commander would have a better idea,” he deflected.

She nodded, and walked to the balcony door, looking out through the glass at the ramparts that were quiet this time of night.

“Kiana,” he spoke up warily “why did you - ” She turned towards him, her back pressed against the cold glass, and cut him off with a look. “Not now, Solas,” she said sharply, and he was taken aback by her tone. She sighed, and leaned her head back against the glass. “I need to be alone, _vhenan_. I need to deal with… everything. Please,” she implored, her eyes closed, “let me be alone.”

She could hear his footsteps, and then felt the heat of his body as he pulled her into an embrace. “ _Ar lath ma_ ,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. It made her want to weep again. “Do not keep me away for too long, _vhenan_.” Giving her another soft kiss, he left, and her room felt cold.

With a sigh, she sat at her desk and tackled the reports. She would not be able to sleep now, was afraid of the sights she would see in her dreams if she tried. She decided to spend her energy on the myriad issues that were stacked on the beautiful mahogany desk Josephine had bought for her.

She picked up the first one and read it.

 

_Herald,_

_Your Inquisition says it’s for order against chaos, reason against darkness. If you stand by this, come forth and drive the heretics from my lands. They claim to be refugees, but I have seen elves and apostates among them! Filthy savages, tearing at our roots. Our Monarch refuses to send forth armies, and my own Knights were decimated at the Conclave. I require your aid to return peace to my lands._

_Prove your loyalty, and I will see you richly rewarded for your faith._

_Praise the light,_

_Lord Kildarn of Ferelden_.

 

By the time she got to the end of it, she was angry. _These_ were the kind of people she was to help? _Fuck them_. She went over her advisor’s recommendations that were attached, and decided she agreed with Cullen. Let their men aid the refugees. The Lord could go jump into a pond for all she cared.

The next was a letter from Sebastian.

 

_Kiki,_

_I’ve been following your adventures - really, can you not write to me every so now and then so I don’t worry so much? I wasn’t surprised to hear that you offered to ally with the mages, but I was saddened to hear of the fate that befell the templars. Varric tells me that they have been corrupted by the red lyrium that affected Knight Commander Meredith as well._

 

Varric had been writing to Sebastian? That surprised her.

 

_I know that if anyone can restore order in the midst of these chaos, it is you. I am only too glad to help out in any way I can. I have already written to your diplomat, but I wanted you to know that I am proud of you. You will not shirk against doing the right thing. I only pray to the Maker and Andraste that they keep you safe._

_Be safe, my friend._

_Sebastian_

 

She picked up a quill, and penned a reply.

 

_Seb,_

_I received your letter when I needed it the most. Thank you for your kind words, and your faith in me. It has been difficult, so much so sometimes I fantasize about running away, back to Starkhaven. But alas, we both know that there are more important matters at hand._

_I now know the name of our enemy, at least. Corypheus. An ancient magister from Tevinter, who commands the Blight. Did I mention he has a pet dragon? Because he does._

_Seb, I’m afraid. Not for myself, because I would gladly lay my life down if it meant saving the world, but of all the men and women who look to me for protection. I cannot keep them all safe. So many lives have already been lost, and so many more will fall in our quest to end Corypheus. How do I live with the guilt?_

_Take care of yourself, my friend, and stay safe. Knowing you are well gives me hope._

_Kiana_

 

She put the quill down, and sank her head into her hands. She was filled with so much guilt she could feel it pressing down on her, threatening to choke her. Desperate, she rose and flung open the balcony doors, uncaring of the bitterly cold wind that hit her. She walked out, pulling the edges of her robe together, and stared down into the courtyard, watching the few guards present scurry about.

_“I should have done more, I could have done more, I failed them, I failed him, I shouldn’t have let Stroud go, I should have helped, should have found a way, why didn’t I, I let him die, I’m a monster…”_

She should have been startled to hear her thoughts being voiced by someone else, but she knew it was Cole and turned towards him, a sad smile on her lips.

“Guilt, grief, gravely knotting in your belly, so unsure. _Did I do the right thing_ , _they all hate me_ , the anger rises, temper flaring, fury licking your chest. _They weren’t there, how dare they judge me_.” Cole blinked at her. “So many feelings.” he said, his eyes wide. “You didn’t want to help them, but you did. Because he saved you. And he believed in them. You needed to.” The lad nodded. “Yes, I see. I was angry. They hurt people! But I think I understand. They didn’t know, and they were afraid.”

“Indeed,” she murmured. “It is not an excuse for that they did. But I couldn’t let him down.” She looked at him hopefully. “Can you tell me if Stroud survived?”

Cole shook his head. “I can’t go into the Fade freely.” He cocked his head at her. “You hurt less. I helped?”

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Yes, my dear boy. Thank you.”

Satisfied, he disappeared, and she headed indoors, back to her desk.

The next piece of correspondence was from the Blades of Hessarian. Surprised, she picked up the report.

 

_Your Worship,_

  _The Blades of Hessarian keep supplies along the shore. Consider them at your disposal. Our former leader increased our caches significantly - although some might consider his methods dishonorable._

_Ivor of the Blades_

 

She sighed. _Dishonorable_ told her that it was likely stolen, or they had murdered for them. _Well, we can’t return them now,_ she thought.

She penned out a quick reply.

 

_Ivor,_

_Thank you for the generous offer, but I must decline. Keep the supplies for your people. I only ask that you share anything you know, or see, in the Storm Coast and elsewhere._

_Stay safe,_

_Kiana Trevelyan_

 

She made decisions on several more matters, deciding to use the Grey Warden treaties to obtain more information. On the matter of Arl Wulff allying with the Venatori, she found herself agreeing with Josephine’s suggestion, and sent the diplomat a note asking her to approach the Arl with what they knew.

She followed up on the matter of the double agent they had uncovered while at Caer Bronach, and was pleased to read Leliana’s report that the agent had been uncovered, mildly surprised to note that the Nightingale had spared the man’s life.

_Well, maybe now her suggestions in the war room wouldn’t only involve stabbing everything and everyone_ , she thought amusedly.

The sun was rising when she decided she needed a break. She asked for a bath to be drawn, and spent a good, long time soaking in it, trying to clear her mind and for once just not _think_.

She wasn’t very successful, but her muscles were relaxed when she finally stepped out. As she was towelling herself dry, she noticed the myriad bruises and cuts that peppered her body. In her haste to get to some privacy, she had forgotten about healing herself. Nothing seemed terribly serious - the potions she’d chugged at Adamant had seen to that - but to someone else, her injuries would look terrible. She heard a horrified gasp behind her, and sighed - that would be her maid, no doubt. She turned around with a smile, reassuring the frightened woman that no, she wasn’t dying, and yes, she was fine, and no, there was no need for a healer. The woman didn’t look convinced, and Kiana had a feeling she would soon be graced with the company of a healer.

She remained in her room all day, ignoring the messages, and requests for audiences that were sent up to her room. When her companions tried to approach her, they found her room covered with a barrier.

It was late evening when Solas walked into her room, worried. She had not replied to anyone, had refused to see anyone, and the kitchen staff had informed them that she had not asked for any meals. He found her sitting at her desk, papers stacked into neat piles. When she raised her head, her eyes were bloodshot, ringed with dark circles.

“Why are you here?” she rasped out.

“We are all concerned about you, _vhenan_. You have not eaten all day, your maid informs us that you are gravely injured and yet you have not approached a healer.”

“I can heal myself,” she reminded him.

“Have you?” he countered, and her silence confirmed his suspicions. “You have not,” he stated.

She shrugged. “They aren’t bad.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” He held out a hand. “Please?” he beseeched.

Giving him an exasperated look, she stood and walked over to him. He gently examined her, raising her tunic to look at her stomach and her back, the sight of the mottled skin twisting his guts into knots. She was covered in bruises but to his relief there was nothing more serious. He ran his fingers lightly over a bruise on her collarbone, intending to heal it, when she swatted his hand away.

“No,” she said firmly.

He looked at her, confused. “I only want to heal you, _vhera_.”

“I know. And I cannot allow it.” she maintained.

“Why not?” He was baffled.

“I just don’t, okay? Leave it.” she said, vexed.

He let the matter drop. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I’m not hungry,” she grunted. Ignoring her, he went down to the guard stationed at the door to her chambers and asked for two meals to be sent up. Returning to her room, he coolly walked over to her bookshelves, picked out a book, and stretched out on her couch. He was sure she would say something, or get irritated at him, but she only let out a huff and focused her attention on papers on her desk.

She found herself enjoying his silent companionship. There was a measure of warmth, knowing that he was by her side, that she wasn’t alone. So engrossed were the two of them in their respective tasks that they were startled when their meal arrived. A chambermaid placed the tray on the table in front of the couch, and left, and Solas gently pulled her over to sit with him. The meal was simple; a bowl of stew, some bread, and fresh berries, and he distracted her with stories of the splendors of Arlathan, with its crystal spires, and floating buildings as they ate.

He didn’t have to ask to stay, and she didn’t ask him to leave.

They spent the night wrapped together, each protecting the other.


End file.
